A Change of Course
by KaibaGirl17
Summary: One action can change an entire story within the blink of an eye. This proves to be true when Anne does NOT miscarry after seeing her husband King Henry VIII of England with Jane Seymour. But even now only time will tell if things will go as they did, or they will change entirely. First Tudors story. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alright, so I've thought of doing a Tudors story for ages now, but with life being as crazy as it's been the last few months, it was pushed to the wayside. But here it is, and I do hope you all will enjoy it and I will cheerfully accept reviews and all the while cheerfully ignore all flames.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

A sharp cry tore her from her sleep.

Queen Anne, formerly the Lady Anne Boleyn, felt terror grip her heart as her hands flew to her great belly, as though the touch would ease the pain therein.

 _'Please no!'_ she cried inwardly. ' _I can't lose you too...Please! Please, don't leave me!_ '

King Henry the Eighth's second wife had already lost one child before. She couldn't lose another. Not when she stood to lose everything else as well...

...

Katherine of Aragon, Infanta of Spain and Queen of England, the latter a title she would never part with for as long as air remained in her lungs, sat in a chair beside the fireplace where a weak flicker of flames danced against the stonework of the hearth.

Despite her husband the king's cruelty to her, attempting to annul their marriage, forbidding her from seeing her beloved Mary in order to force her to comply with his wishes, Katherine loved him still and hoped and prayed that he would see the light.

"Your Majesty?"

Katherine was pulled from her thoughts as her loyal lady-in-waiting Elizabeth Darrell curtsied and Katherine was pleasantly surprised to see the Imperial Ambassador Eustace Chapuys standing a respectful distance away.

"The Imperial Ambassador, Your Majesty," Elizabeth murmured.

"Ambassador, you are welcome," the Spanish queen smiled warmly as she held out her hand.

"Your Majesty," Eustace smiled as well as he bowed and then took the queen's hand and kissed it.

Even in her dreary and unpleasant living conditions, Queen Katherine still looked dignified as a queen should, which in itself made Chapuys admire her all the more. But it also made him all the more indignant that such a gracious lady should suffer such abominable treatment.

"Have you news of my daughter?" Katherine asked after a few moments.

Eustace gave her a bit of a sympathetic smile. He did not want the queen to believe he was pitying her, but he also wished to express that he understood her pain and that of Princess Mary.

"Her Highness remains strong despite the harlot's attempts to break her will," he reported, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and he could see the queen doing the same.

Eustace felt a bit of pride for the princess; though she was possessed of delicate health, she proved to be just as willful as her mother and her legendary grandmother, Isabella of Castile. And, if one were to be honest, she also had inherited a fair bit of her stubborn will from her temperamental father.

"The harlot demanded that the princess acknowledge her so-called illegitimacy and pronounce her and her little bastard daughter as queen and princess," Chapuys continued. "She even claimed that she would reconcile the princess with the king if she would do so. Naturally, Her Highness refused but the Lady Anne is relentless in her pursuit and will do whatever she must to promote the interests of her little bastards."

"There is another?" Katherine's pale blue eyes widened at this news.

Chapuys nodded.

"The king's mistress is with child once more," the Spaniard explained. "But," the smile returned, "The lady has failed to carry a child to term before, so there may yet be hope."

"Or she may bear another daughter," Katherine was a bit taken aback by the ambassador's almost callous mention of Anne's miscarriage. While she may have led a good man astray and caused Katherine and her daughter, as well as many who refused to sign the Oath of Succession, untold amounts of pain and sorrow, the Spanish queen could never bring herself to wish her child ill. Whatever Anne's faults, the babe in her womb was innocent, and Katherine would never wish the grief she herself felt, which had grown worse over the years with each child she lost, grief Anne had likely felt the first time she had miscarried, upon her worst enemy.

"Another daughter would also serve to show the king further proof of his error to yield to the wishes of his overly ambitious concubine," Eustace replied thoughtfully.

Katherine sighed. She had no desire to speak of Anne or her children, especially if Eustace had miraculously managed to bring a letter from her precious daughter. Oh, what she wouldn't give to see what a beautiful young woman her darling girl had grown up to be!

"Have you brought any word from my daughter?" Katherine asked softly, hoping against hope.

Unfortunately, that flicker of hope died in her chest when Chapuys shook his head.

"The princess was unable to write this time, but she sends her regards to the true Queen of England," Eustace stated with a smile, "And she remembers your words; remain strong and God willing, all will be well."

Katherine nodded numbly. She would have loved to have received a letter, but she must not lose heart. Henry must surely see the truth soon. He must!

...

"How is the queen?" Henry asked, though his tone seemed more like an order.

Dr. Linacre took a deep breath, for he knew the news he had to deliver would not be received well.

"The child was not lost, thanks be to God...but Her Majesty has been greatly weakened by shock."

"AND?!" Henry's eyes flickered with rage.

"Extra precautionary measures **must** be taken," the doctor explained, all the while attempting to calm the angry monarch.

Henry listened as Dr. Linacre instructed that Anne's confinement must begin immediately, both so her physical body could recover the shock that it had endured and perhaps her excited emotional state could be calmed. She was so close to carrying to the full term, so she must not become overexcited lest she lose their son.

Their son...Henry's son...

The dark-haired monarch felt himself now exasperated with Anne. All this because he was merely exercising his right as king! She was with child for goodness sake! So he could not share her bed without the risk of harming the unborn prince, whose arrival could not come soon enough. And since the queen was currently unable to fulfill her wifely duty, her husband and king was free to comfort himself with the company of another. And even so, his relationship with the Lady Jane Seymour was nothing more than a chaste friendship, though if he were to be honest with himself, he would not regret if it were more...

But Jane was a good, wholesome, and virtuous maiden, an untouched beauty whom Henry could never bring himself to take advantage of. She had stated to him during one of their strolls together that her honor was her most prized attribute and he had no intention of sullying such a delicate angel. Really, his only complaint with her was her mention of the Lady Mary, his disobedient daughter by Katherine. But even then, he found that he could not fault her for her concern for the misguided girl; Jane was merely showing compassion for his young daughter, even if that daughter was a defiant bastard who was bringing about her own misery by continuing to cling to her pretended title of 'Princess' when the true holder of that title was her sister Elizabeth. As soon as she swallowed her pride and submitted to the will of her king and father, then and **only** then, would he become inclined to show her the kindness he so wished he could now. But he would not reward her defiance, and the sooner she realized that the better.

...

...

So, I do hope that everyone enjoyed this first chapter. Yes, I know the whole 'what if Anne hadn't lost the baby?' thing has been written several times before, but I still wanted to do my own take on it, and I do hope that you all enjoyed the first part here. I can promise you things will certainly become more intense as the story goes on (It's about the Tudors, of course that's a given) and the next chapter, which will be much longer than this little prologue, will be out without fail, on Thursday, November 1st. Until then, I do hope you will leave reviews and let me know what you think of this. Thanks in advance!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, as promised, here is the brand new, much longer, chapter. It is a little later in the day than I had hoped, but today was a bit hectic. Thank you to Guest, Guest, princessElizabethtudor, Guest, Guest, heffy, gabbygrl247, greeneyedwickeddragon, and tricorvus for all of the kind reviews. Enjoy.

 ** _Guest_** : Thank you for the compliment. And yes, I was trying to keep Henry in character, especially seeing how things played out in-series and in-history. So, this time there won't be a 'magically falling in love all over again' situation here. And yes, I took a little bit of a liberty with having Katherine still alive at this point in the story, but there is a reason for it. And Jane's position will become clear soon enough.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

Anne screamed as another contraction spasmed through her body.

"Please, my Lady! Don't give up!" her cousin Madge Shelton was practically crying as she rubbed Anne's sweaty hand.

Nan Saville, who had been in Anne's service even before she became queen, stood on the other side of the great bed, holding her other hand.

Torrents of blood flowed steadily from Anne, blooming over the ivory sheets like crimson blossoms.

Anne couldn't understand. Birthing Elizabeth had not caused her pain nearly as much as the measure of agony that she felt now, nor had her daugher's delivery yielded so much blood. This was worrying her...was it already too late?

No! It couldn't be too late...she couldn't lose her baby, not now...not when everything seemed to be going so wrong already...

How had it all come to this? Henry had been so loving and kind to her before. Like she was the only woman in his world. Of course she had been during the years he had pursued her, but the moment she was with child-

No, she couldn't let her anger and hurt feelings toward her unfaithful husband distract her from what truly mattered: the life of their...HER child.

' _Please, God!_ ' she pleaded silently as another wave of pain washed over her. ' _Please, don't take my child away from me. Be it a son or a daughter, I do not care! I just want my child to live! Take me and let him or her live! Spare them and take me_!'

And in that moment, she indeed and truly meant it. Though Elizabeth would no doubt be devastated, and Anne would hate to leave her newborn son or daughter without a mother, she would go to her grave a thousand times over if it meant the babe in her womb would be able to draw their first breath, to live.

...

Charles Brandon never hated Anne Boleyn more than he did in that moment.

Princess Mary, who had been ignored for years in favor of her young half-sister Elizabeth for Anne's sake, had fallen ill and her mother, the true queen in Charles's eyes, had written a letter in her own hand begging the king's leave to journey to the residence where her daughter was and be able to tend to her and comfort her in the way only a devoted mother could. But Henry had refused, stating that illness could be used as a means of the two convening together under one roof where they could incite a rebellion against him or even flee to Spain with the aid of Katherine's nephew Emperor Charles where he could proclaim them as queen and princess from the safety of his domain. That had been bad enough, but then the king had gone so far as to suggest that the concern poor Katherine felt for her ailing child would be better serviced toward Anne, who was now struggling to bring 'their beloved prince' into the world.

Had it not been for this child in her belly, and the knowledge that he himself would be a head shorter and leave his wife and son at the king's mercy, the Duke of Suffolk would have strangled the false queen with his bare hands. What more could she take? What more could she want?

"Father, don't say that."

The voice of George Boleyn, Anne's brother and the Viscount of Rochford, pulled Charles from his rage-filled thoughts.

"George, be realistic," Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire, spoke up and though he couldn't see the older man's face, Charles knew the man was sneering. After all, that seemed to be the power-hungry man's default expression.

"Anne can't die!" George gasped and a sob escaped him.

"Now George, it really is not uncommon for a woman to die in childbirth," the Duke of Norfolk was saying. "It is a part of life and we must live with it."

"What is imperative is that Anne delivers a healthy son for the king," Wilthshire cut in callously.

This actually sent a chill through Charles. For all of his hatred of Anne, in that moment he actually found he felt a hint of sympathy for her. Did her father only see her as a means to an end?

"Father, how can you say such a thing?" George asked in horror, unknowingly echoing Charles's thoughts. "She is your daughter..."

"She is the queen and she shall do her duty and deliver the king a son and heir!" his father roared.

Charles wondered if the remarks that had been made, somewhat in jest, by other courtiers had been correct; if Thomas Boleyn truly did have ice in his veins instead of blood.

...

King Henry sat staring absently at the chessboard in front of him. One of his courtiers had suggested a game while he awaited the news of the birth of his son. But now, the game had been abandoned.

Anne wasn't well. She had been in labor for hours now and the child still showed no signs of coming.

What if something went wrong? What if he lost Anne or the child? Or...both?

A dry sob escaped the king's throat. He had fought for years for Anne and then they had had only a daughter and lost another child before the gender could be determined and now this.

He tried to remind himself that he and Jane were doing nothing to cause alarm, merely partaking in a chaste kiss. Anne had imagined evil where there was none.

Jane was back at Wolf Hall at the moment, but Henry found himself wishing he could speak with her, hear her sweet voice assuring him that the queen would be fine, that she would send prayers for the child and his mother.

Jane was indeed a sweet and virtuous maiden and how Henry wished he could embrace her, to feel another human with him instead of being left alone, even if he was the one who had dismissed the others.

His mind then drifted back to Anne and suddenly, one of his grooms raced in the room.

"What news?" he barked at the man as he sprang to his feet.

"Your Majesty, Dr. Linacre says there are complications...the baby is likely to die unless..."

"Unless what?" Henry's face was red. "Out with it, man!"

"Unless he cuts open the belly of the queen...Your Majesty may have to choose between the life of the mother or the child..."

Henry immediately slumped back into his chair, utterly speechless.

A choice to be made...his wife or his long-awaited son?

...

"This is all the fault of that vile whore!" Mary hissed.

Mary Tudor, the true Princess of England, fought back the tears of fury stinging at her eyes as she sat opposite the Imperial Ambassador.

"Take care, my lady," Chapuys warned. "There are many unfriendly ears about and it would do no good for word to reach the king."

Mary nodded. She knew he was right, but she was still enraged that her mother had begged her father to show her this one kindness and he refused, purely to please the harlot who had no right to call herself his wife, let alone his queen. Though she knew she must heed the ambassador's words, especially given the fact that she was already treading soft ground with her father due to her continuous refusal to sign the Oath of Succession and in doing so repudiate her beloved mother.

"I hope and pray His Majesty sees the truth before it is too late," she spoke softly as she gazed into the flickering flames in the fireplace.

"As do I, Your Highness," Chapuys murmured in a voice just as soft. "Your mother has not lost faith that the truth shall prevail and you will be restored. Soon, God willing."

"God willing," Mary echoed as Chapuys stood, kissed her hand, then bowed before taking his leave.

She was sure her father would remember the love he once bore her mother and surely still bore her, the daughter whom he had once called the pearl of his world, and when he did all would be well.

...

Jane sighed as she sat with her sisters, Elizabeth and Dorothy, an embroidery hoop in her hand.

She had had no desire to stay at court after the fiasco with Queen Anne, but she did find herself missing the court and most especially King Henry. Though he still made her a bit timid, it would be a lie to say she was not attracted to the king. But she could not allow herself to yield to him. Her brother Edward had told her to remain demure and inaccessible lest the king believe her to be an easy conquest.

"Has His Majesty written you as of late?" Elizabeth inquired as she looked up from her own needlework.

Jane shook her head.

"His Majesty and I are only friends," she answered with a small smile. "And at the present time, he is concerned with the impending birth of his child,"

"Another Boleyn bastard," Dorothy frowned.

Jane said nothing. It wasn't as if what Dorothy hadn't said was true. Anne had married the king during Queen Katherine's lifetime, despite the marriage being declared invalid and so her daughter Elizabeth and this new child would both be illegitimate, but Lady Anne didn't see it that way. And in her crusade for her children to be acknowledged as the true heirs of their royal father, poor Princess Mary had been forgotten.

More than once, Jane herself had tried to speak with King Henry on the young girl's behalf. She would have gladly spoken on behalf of Queen Katherine as well, but that would have not been well-received, given the king's insistence on treating Anne like a queen while leaving the wife he had been married to for over twnety years and their beloved daughter by the wayside. At least where his once cherished daughter was concerned, Henry seemed to be pleased that Jane cared so much for his daughter even if he insisted her poor treatment was her own fault. Edward had told her this could be disastrous if she said more than necessary.

"By all means speak in her defense," he had said once. "But take care how you do so. And do not presume to suggest that the king is wrong in this matter. It will do nothing to endear you to him nor will it be of any help to the princess."

With a soft sigh, the golden-haired Seymour maiden pushed these thoughts from her mind and focused on her needlework.

...

Charles hadn't left Henry's side.

After the groom's grim message, the Duke of Suffolk had hurried back to the king, though nothing he could say could comfort the man.

Henry stared ahead gloomily, all traces of mirth and even life itself it seemed had vanished from his usually merry blue eyes. Charles had only seen his old friend look the is aggrieved one other time, when his son Henry, the New Year Prince, had passed after a mere four weeks of life. Infant deaths were not uncommon, but the death of a prince was always extra tragic, especially later on when one considered he had been succeeded by a number of brothers and sisters until Mary.

"I think to lose them both, Charles," he finally spoke, his voice sounding like it belonged to a much older man. "How could such a thing happen?"

"Don't lose heart yet, Henry," Charles forced himself to smile slightly as he placed a comforting hand on Henry's slumped shoulder. "There is still hope."

At that moment, another groom hurried into the chamber and after bowing as protocol required, he gave his news.

For a horrific minute or two, Henry was sure the groom would tell him that Anne or the child or both had died, despite everything.

"Your Majesty," the man spoke softly, his entire frame shaking though he was trying his best to control it. "Her Majesty..."

...

...

 ** _CLIFFHANGER! Because I'm evil like that, lol._**

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, I do so hope you all enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a review and let me know. The next chapter will be out on Monday, November 5th. Until next time, everyone.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I decided to post early this morning. Here is the new chapter, everyone and I do thank Guest, princessElizabethtudor, justice, Guest, tricorvus, gabbygrl247, and Robin4 for all of the kind reviews on the previous chapter.

 ** _Guest_** : I do agree with you there. Perhaps I am a touch biased, but I too feel like Anne gets a little too much hate in regards to Henry's behavior and choices. He made those choices both before and even after Anne on his own volition. One of the few things I disliked about the Tudors in particular was that they made Jane out to be this pure, wholesome, and angelic pinnacle of virtue who could do no wrong. Yes, Anne did dally with a married man, but if we're being realistic so did Jane. Neither woman could claim innocence in that matter. And Jane also did show more favor both in-series and in-history to Mary than she ever did to Elizabeth. So yes, I do agree with your points wholeheartedly. Sadly, back then Anne was blamed for Henry's shortcomings, many of which had nothing to do with her, simply because no one was brave or foolish enough to call Henry himself out. But then, how does one criticize a king without ending up a head short?

 _ **justice**_ : Male twins? Did you somehow get your hands on my Fanfic idea notebook? If so, please do not inform the other readers of what I have planned for the next chapter, let them be surprised. Lol, jk. But seriously, I commend you on the great guesswork there.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 _ **May 19th, 1536**_

The last remains of Henry's patience evaporated as he glared at the young groom.

"Well?" he shrieked frantically. "What of the queen!?"

"Her Majesty has delivered..." the groom's face broke into a pleased smile, "Of a healthy **son**."

At this news, the world seemed to come to a stop.

"I have a son?"

Henry looked to the groom and then to Charles and then upward, a shocked expression on his face as the realization of those words sank in.

"I have a son..." he repeated breathlessly, unable to believe it.

Charles was a bit disgruntled that Anne had succeeded where Katherine had failed, but he was pleased for Henry's sake. He of all people knew how happy his old friend was to finally be blessed with a son.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty," he placed a hand on the king's shoulder.

Henry's booming laughter echoed about the room as he clapped his hand on Charles's shoulder, just like when they were but boys.

"I have a son!" the king shouted joyfully.

Suddenly, the door opened and another groom came hurrying into the room, and after observing the protocol, he took a deep breath.

"Your Majesty...the queen..."

Henry's grin faded. Had something happened to Anne?

"What is it?" his voice became agitated.

"Another child, sire," the man spoke quickly albeit more composed than the first groom had been. "The queen has delivered a second son."

Henry let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding.

Twins? That was rare for anyone, let alone monarchs. And yet, here he was with news that his wife had given him not one, but two sons. His heir and his spare all in one fell swoop.

The king immediately sank to his knees, silently thanking the Lord above for such a blessing. Surely this would not only secure the future of the Tudor dynasty, but also show that Anne truly was his lawful wife and queen. How else could such a miracle be bestowed upon them?

"Fetch my lords Norfolk, Wiltshire, and Rochford," Henry instructed the first groom when his prayers were finished and he has risen to his feet. "And Master Cromwell as well. Preparations of the celebrations for the birth of my sons must begin immediately."

"Of course, sire," the man bowed and departed.

"And you," he turned to the other groom. "Send some heralds into the city to tell them the news."

"Majesty."

Henry turned to Charles, now once again wearing a boyish grin.

"Your Grace," he chuckled. "I must go and see my queen and our two new little princes."

...

"They are so beautiful," Madge cooed softly as she stared down at the infants laying side by side in a silver cradle. Only one baby had been expected and so the single cradle would have to suffice until a second one could be crafted.

Both babies had been cleaned and swaddled while Anne's bloodstained gown and bedding had been carried off for cleaning and replaced with fresh linens and another gown. Her damp hair had been washed and plaited and Dr. Linacre had coaxed a tonic down her throat, followed by a goblet of wine with herbs.

Now the queen lay in the refreshed bed, exhausted from the birth, but she smiled as she caught sight of her sons nestled in their cradle beside her bed.

Words escaped Anne as she gazed at her two little blessings. The firstborn prince had a ribbon of purple velvet around his wrist while his brother had a blue one around his, the colors of their mother's livery. No matter how many times she said prayers of thanks, it would never be enough. Her prayers had already been answered; her son...no, sons, were alive and Dr. Linacre and the midwife had assured her that both of them were healthy.

Though the ribbons were to differentiate the pair, Anne was able to tell them apart anyway. Both princes had dark, nearly black hair and blue eyes, but the eldest prince resembled their father while his younger brother seemed to take more of his appearance from Anne herself.

"Well done, sweetheart."

Anne's ladies curtsied and she herself inclined her head as her husband entered the chamber. He seemed to instantly appear at her bedside as he took her into his arms and kissed her tenderly before turning to the cradle, his expression ecstatic.

"We shall have to have a second cradle fashioned," he mused in a mock-grave tone.

"Yes," Anne nodded, forcing herself to smile.

Henry might be content to pretend that all was well between them now, but Anne could not bring herself to do so. Not after he had hurt her and betrayed her so, not when she and her children had nearly lost their lives in the aftermath of her husband's selfishness. Things could never be as they once were.

Henry however was now solely focused on the infant princes. Ever so gently, he lifted the boy wearing the purple ribbon.

"Our firstborn son," he whispered softly as he kissed the boy's downy head. "Bless you, sweet child. What shall we name him, my dear? Henry or Edward?"

Henry had decided long ago that he wanted his heir to be named one or the other and now he would have both at once.

The last thing Anne wanted was to name her son after the man that had hurt her, even if the man in question was his father. But she also knew it would further emphasize that the boy was truly a living image of his father. And so she nodded.

"Henry," she murmured softly. "Like his father."

"Our own little Prince Henry, Prince of Wales and the future king of England," Henry felt his heart soar as he uttered these words and set his son back in the cradle and lifted his brother.

"And now our Prince Edward," he smiled.

"No," Anne stated with such vehemence that Henry's eyes widened slightly. And then a darkened look came over his face.

"Does the name displease you, madam?" he asked.

"It is an unlucky name," Anne answered, thinking quickly. She knew the wench Jane Seymour had a brother named Edward and it would be a cold day in hell before she consented to let her child bear the same name as that man. But she couldn't say that, so she would instead appeal to her husband's superstitious nature. After all, plenty of past princes and kings with the name Edward had indeed met with unpleasant fates, one in particular had been one of Henry's own uncles: Elizabeth of York's brother Edward the Fifth.

This seemed to work as Henry pondered for a moment and nodded.

"Very well," he sighed. "Then we shall have to find another name. Perhaps Thomas for your uncle and father?"

Thomas might have been a suitable name, had it not been an unspoken command of her father that George father and heir and that was to be the name. And even then, Anne knew that name too was tainted, by Master Cromwell, who had once been her allie before he began using the Reformation as a means for his own benefit. He also had thrown his lot in with the Seymours, even offering his rooms to them so as to encourage Henry's dalliance with Jane. And in addition to that, Jane herself just happened to have a brother by the name Thomas. No, Anne would not allow her son to be cursed with that name.

She hurriedly thought of the names in her family tree, before finally settling on one in particular that appealed to her.

"Geoffrey," she said with a slight smile as she looked down at her younger son.

Henry stared at his wife in bewilderment.

"Geoffrey?"

Anne nodded. Her great-grandfather had been a hatter, but has rose to prominence as a Lord Mayor of London before being knighted by King Henry VI. And besides, it was not a common name within the royal family and so would help set the boy apart. The twins would each bear a name of their ancestry, Tudor and Boleyn.

While it did seem to Henry to be an odd name for a Prince of England, it was a surprisingly refreshing choice as no English princes bore the name and while it wouldn't have been very acceptable for a firstborn son, it would suffice for a second son.

"Prince Geoffrey, Duke of York," Henry spoke aloud and found it to be quite appealing. "What a pair these two will grow up to be. Don't you agree, sweetheart?"

"Yes," Anne answered before sighing wearily and lying back against her pillows.

"Rest, my darling," Henry had settled the infant Geoffrey back into the cradle and had now take Anne into his arms and kissed her again as he ran a hand over her plaited her. "You must be exhausted. We will talk more later when you are up."

Those same words, he had used before. Only now they were meant to be affectionate.

In truth, there was nothing to say. Not this time.

Had things been different, Anne would have lost little Henry and poor little Geoffrey would have been lost without anyone knowing he had even been there until...

The queen's eyes flew open as she frantically turned to glance at her sons, her arms madly thrusting toward the side of the bed.

"It's alright," Henry whispered, gently taking her wrists and placing them over her stomach, kissing each one as he did so before wiping away a tear that escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. "Don't weep. Our boys will still be right here when you awaken."

No matter what tender words and sweet reassurances he uttered, Anne would never forget the day that she had found him with Jane perched upong his knee, the pair in the grasp of a passionate kiss, the kiss of lovers. She would never forget the pain he had made her feel. NEVER.

As her eyes drooped, she felt Henry tuck the silken sheets and coverlet around her.

"You are tired, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear. "You must rest. Our sons will be hear, safe and sound.

With a weak nod, the queen allowed the embrace of sleep to engulf her.

...

"I shall entrust the arrangements for the banquets, masques, and jousts to celebrate the birth of my sons to you," Henry stated to Norfolk, who gave a pleased grin as he inclined his head.

"It would be my great honor and pleasure, Your Majesty," the duke replied.

"Lord Wiltshire will assist you as well," Henry gestured to his father-in-law, whom Norfolk saw swell with pride as he gave his brother-in-law a wry smirk before turning and bowing to the king and stating what a pleasure in would be to take part in the celebrations honoring his royal grandsons.

The celebrations for a son were marvelous, but these celebrations could be nothing short of spectacular given that Anne had given Henry two sons at once. Such a miracle could not go unnoticed, and even if the people of the realm held no love for Anne herself, both Norfolk and Boleyn were shrewd enough to know the English people had waited so long for a prince to succeed their beloved king that they would rejoice at the prospect that the royal nursery yielded two princes, as well as a princess, so there would be assurance of an heir to the throne, rather than a foreign monarch as there would have been if the Lady Mary had been the only successor.

Henry himself had already decided that King Francis would stand as godfather to the Prince of Wales, with the Ambassador Jean du Bellay as his proxy. But now he must find someone to stand as godfather to the Duke of York. Emperor Charles was of course out of the question as he continued to insist that Henry restore the Lady Mary as his legitimate daughter and heiress and forsake his sons, deeming them bastards. Henry also distrusted Ambassador Chapuys, whom he had heard, had occasionally smuggled letters between Katherine and Mary and he had even intercepted the man's correspondences to his master, beseeching him to intercede on the pair's behalf, all the while referring to Anne as a harlot and a concubine and their children brats and bastards, even going so far as to suggest Anne had lain with another man and the twins were merely cuckoos that she hoped to pass off as the king's sons to secure her position as queen.

Henry knew such treasonous words warranted severe punishment, but if he were to confront Chapuys on the matter, it could not ony cause further conflict with the Emperor, but also lead to the cunning ambassador finding another network to send the letters through and he did not wish to be unaware of what the Spaniard had to say.

With a sigh, he forced himself to push those unpleasant things from his mind. After all, there were grand celebrations to be planned. Soon, all of England would be filled with cannon fire, the pealing of church bells, and the cheering and singing of te deums as the people celebrated the birth of their future king. Food and wine would be distributed, after all it was the people's celebration as well. Too long had they waited for a prince to prevent the threat of another civil war, and now they had him and another as well. Henry did not want to think of the possibility that one of his sons could die before reaching adulthood, but it was a very real one. At least he could reconcile himself that there would be another should such a thing come to pass.

This however caused another thought to take form...

Henry had always felt like a bit of an afterthought to his father. Arthur had been the heir and he had been but a second son, bound for the church, which wouldn't have been so horrible. But the idea that he always felt that he was less important just because he wasn't the firstborn had been a very unpleasant feeling in itself.

At that moment, the king resolved that little Henry and Geoffrey would be nothing like he and Arthur had been. No, they would both be loved and treasured like the blessings they were. His and Anne's little princes, their little miracles.

...

No one needed to tell Mary that the harlot had delivered her child, nor did they need to state the infant's sex.

The ladies of Elizabeth's household were hastily packing the princess's clothing and other assortment of belongings in preparation for a journey to Whitehall.

Lady Bryan had received word earlier that day that the king had commanded that his daughter be brought to court right away in order to gree her new sibling, as well as partake in the celebrations.

Mary, as a member of the household, was obliged to attend as well, regardless of her personal feelings on the matter. Had she not been treading soft ground with her father at the present, she would have refused to go and be forced to show her stepmother and stepsister the deference they pretended they were due as queen and princess. But Mary knew the truth, Anne was nothing more than her father's mistress and the children she bore were illegitimate by birth.

Her poor mother would be fortunate in this regard to still be at the More. While the conditions were, from what she had heard from a reluctant Chapuys, dreary and in no way the proper accommodations for an anointed queen, at least she would be spared the indignity of having to appear before the court as a servant as Mary would soon have to do.

"Lady Mary!"

Mary flinched unwittingly as her young half-sister Elizabeth came hurrying into the room, her eyes ablaze with a child's excitement.

"Mama had my new little brother!" she exclaimed in her clear, soft voice. "And we get to go and meet him, isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes," Mary answered a little more coldly than she had intended. She didn't blame Elizabeth for being happy about having a sibling, but she also could not bring herself to be pleased with the fact that her father would see this as proof that he was right to go against Rome, to forsake his true wife and daughter, and carry on in this farce of a marriage he was currently indulging in. And the worst part was, in being born alone, the new baby had usurped Mary's title. The baby would now be the Prince of Wales, and while Mary herself had never been formally declared Princess of Wales, it had been a courtesy title for the longest time as it had seemed her mother was unlikely to bear another living child.

And now, Anne had won. She had borne Mary's father the son he had craved for so long and in doing so cemented her pretended claim to the title of queen. And Mary found that she hated even more than she had previously for it.

As she listened to Lady Bryan bark orders at the other ladies and herself, Mary felt a sense of dread begin to form in her chest. Despite Lady Bryan's claims of her being defiant and disrespectful, Henry had ordered that she come as well. She knew why; to show the courtiers and by extension the common people as well that he no longer saw her as a legitimate heiress, just another bastard who was lucky to be favored enough to lay claim to the courtesy title of Lady. It had to have been Anne's influence, surely her loving father would not want to hurt his trueborn daughter, whom he had always loved and doted on in her childhood, in such a vile way. Anne already had a son and the assurance that she would remain queen, what more did she want?

...

"God, of His Almighty and infinite grace, give and grant good life and long to the noble Prince Henry, Duke of Cornwall, and to the right high, right excellent Prince Geoffrey, Duke of York, dear and entirely beloved sons of our most dread and gracious lord, King Henry the Eighth!"

Neither Anne nor Henry attended their sons' christening, as per tradition, but nearly everyone else at court had.

Mary of course had been placed near the back, so as to not cause unrest.

It displeased her to see that Anne had borne not one, but two princes. One would have been bad enough, but now even Mary and her mother's most ardent supporters would now turn against them in favor of what they believed to be a secure succession. Even the most devoted supporters would prefer a boy on the throne as opposed to a girl, and while Mary couldn't deceive herself to believe otherwise it did not lessen the sting of the knowledge.

...

Anne was sitting up in her bed, dressed in a splendid gown of dark purple silk embroidered with gold and a crimson robe trimmed with ermine. Her hair hung loosely about in lustrous dark curls, and her normally piercing blue eyes were tired, but Henry could see them liven immediately as her twin sons were brought before her.

"My darlings," she murmured softly, placing a kiss on each of the infant's foreheads as they were placed into her arms. A part of her ached as she knew she would only see them for a short time before they were removed to Hatfield with their older sister, but it still pleased her to no end that she would see them during visits and in the future, progresses.

"I can never thank you enough for them," Henry whispered to her. "My love..."

It dismayed him when Anne smiled, but said nothing. He couldn't understand why. Why would she scarcely speak to him unless the occasion required it?

Reminding himself that she was unwell, Henry decided that perhaps Anne was still tired. After all, the labor had been very taxing for her. Thankfully they had not had to cut open her belly as he had feared, but her present condition still concerned him. His poor darling who had struggled to bring their princes into the world. She had survived the sweating sickness before, so surely she must persevere through this as well, for indeed that was what she was; his Lady Perseverance...

Anne herself had no idea of the thoughts that coursed through her clearly distracted husband's mind, but she honestly did not care. At the moment, her only concerns were her sons, and the moment the door opened, her daughter.

"Elizabeth!" she greeted the three-year-old girl happily. "Oh, my own heart, I have missed you so!"

"I've missed you, Mama," Elizabeth spoke as she curtsied before Lady Bryan could scold her on deportment. "Papa says that I have two new little brothers."

"Indeed you do," Anne smiled. "Would you like to meet them?"

Nodding eagerly, Elizabeth toddled over to the bed to get a close look at the two wriggling bundles in her mother's arms.

"They look like you and Papa!" she declared.

This pleased Anne more than anyone could ever know, for at least it meant that no one, not even the most adamant of those that supported Mary and Katherine, would be able to claim neither child was sired by the king.

"Yes, they do," Anne smiled before indicating the babe on her right side. "This is the older twin, his name is Henry, like your papa's but we will call him Harry. And the other is Geoffrey, he is named for your great-great-grandfather, Geoffrey Boleyn."

"Harry and Geoffrey," Elizabeth allowed the names to roll off of her tongue before giving an approving nod. "I like that."

"Ah, we are fortunate, sweetheart" Henry remarked jovially as he lifted the little princess into his arms. "The Princess Elizabeth has given her seal of approval."

Elizabeth giggled and Anne smiled as her sons both gurgled softly and nestled closer to her. All was well until she yawned and blinked her eyes rapidly, as though willing herself to remain awake.

"Mama, are you sleepy?" Elizabeth asked softly.

"I'm alright," Anne assured her. "Just a little tired..."

She felt Henry reach for the princes and instinctively she tightened her hold gently, as though it would prevent him from taking them away.

"Anne, it will be alright," he whispered. "They need to be fed and you need to rest. There will be time later after you three have been attended to."

As she felt her eyelids droop once again, Anne reluctantly handed the twins to Nan and Madge so they could be given to their wetnurses, and once more, everything went black...

...

...

Well, that was a long chapter. I do hope everyone enjoyed it, and I have a little announcement; I have decided to begin updating this story, as well as a select few others, every Monday. Therefore, the next chapter will be out on Monday, November 12th. Until then, everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: As promised, here is the new chapter. Thank you to Otakugirl1996, princessElizabethtudor, tricorvus, gabbygrl247, Guest, Guest, Guest, QueenAnneTudor, OlicityxSkyeWard, Robin4, and Anne Boleyn for all of the kind reviews on the previous chapter, as well as an additional thanks to for the review on chapter 2, and I do hope you enjoy this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

 _ **WARNING** **: Character death!**_

...

Catherine Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk, frowned as her husband entered the room.

"So the Lady Anne has borne a son," she remarked coldly. "Two, in fact.

"Yes," Charles sighed heavily. "And the king sees it as proof that his marriage to Queen Katherine was indeed and unlawful union and now things have been put to rights."

"It's wrong,"Catherine declared stiffly. "Women give birth to sons ever day."

"Sons, not _princes_ ," Charles reminded her. "The king has waited a long time for a son, and now he has two at once."

Catherine shook her head. She just couldn't see how such a good and kind lady, whom her own mother had sailed to England from Spain with, like Queen Katherine had been unfortunately enough to lose every child save for her daughter, and now the king's mistress had gone and born the two sons at once.

"Perhaps she truly is not only a heretic, but a witch as well," she uttered darkly.

"Catherine!" Charles hissed. "For goodness sake, mind yourself! Do you have any idea what that snake Boleyn would give to hear that? He would make sure the whole court knew!"

"I care not what _he_ thinks," Catherine replied, eyes alight with defiance.

You'll cares what the king thinks when he has us both hurled into the Tower for treason," her husband replied grimly.

Catherine froze. She knew Charles was right, if Boleyn or Norfolk, or any of Anne's allies were to hear such talk, they would not hesitate to inform the king, along with a few embellishments of course. Even Charles's lifelong friendship with the monarch would not be able to save them from Henry's wrath. And then poor young Edward, whom Catherine adored as though he were her own son, would be completely alone, the son of a traitor, and completely at the king's mercy.

The duchess did not want that, but she also didn't want to accept the fact that Anne Boleyn and her family had become untouchable. Of course, her position was only secure for as long as she had living sons by Henry, and there was no guarantee the boys would survive past infancy.

Catherine sighed and immediately felt guilt taking form within her heart. She would never hold any love for Anne, but she couldn't bring herself to wish death upon two innocent young children, even if the children in question had put an end to any hope of Princess Mary's restoration.

Charles's anger softened as he gently embraced her and kissed her forehead.

"Just take care," he whispered.

Catherine permitted a soft smile as Charles's hand ran through her long, dark hair and the other came to rest upon her stomach.

"I only want to keep you safe," he murmured, his eyes shifting downward to her stomach. "All of you."

...

Though he and Anne were no longer the staunch allies that they had once been, Cromwell knew that it was still a great triumph that the queen had managed to bear the king two princes, as it showed divine favor upon the marriage.

Though he also knew the insistence that Anne be acknowledged as queen and her children the king's legitimate heirs would hinder an Imperial alliance, which Cromwell himself favored. However he was also shrewd enough to realize that such an alliance would depend on the Lady Mary being restored to the succession, and of course the king would **NEVER** allow that. And Emperor Charles had made it plain that he would not forsake his aunt and younger cousin. So, it seemed that they were at a stalemate and would remain so until either King Henry or Emperor Charles yielded, but neither monarch was the least bit willing to do so. Bu that could change at anytime, and had before. Cromwell could only hope and pray that it would be sooner rather than later, and that it would side in his favor.

...

Katherine sighed heavily as she read Chapuys's latest letter; Anne had given Henry a, no two heirs.

The Spanish Ambassador wrote that he believed it to be further proof of the harlot's heresy and, he hinted, the twins themselves were likely the products of witchcraft.

But Katherine did not believe the latter half to be true. Nevertheless, it did little to quell her anguish over the other woman's victory or her sorrow that her beloved daughter was now condemned to be forever known as a bastard born from a cursed and incestuous union, though nothing could be further from the truth. She also couldn't control the grief over the memory of all of the children Katherine herself had lost.

And yet, a part of her still wished the infants well. They were of their mother's family, but they were also of Henry, who had once been the love of Katherine's life, even with all of his flaws. Besides, whether they were of Anne's blood as much as Henry's, the boys were not their mother, they were not guilty of her faults.

While she was still very much aggrieved at the turn of events, Katherin reminded herself that she must not lose heart. Surely her prayers would be answered, so she must remain faithful and strong, not only for her own sake but that of her daughter.

...

Dr. Linacre frowned as he examined the queen.

She herself had yet to awaken from the stupor she seemed to have fallen in, but her ladies had informed the doctor that she had earlier that day complained of pain, and her body had been warmer than usual. Though, from their testments, she had not been nearly as feverish as she was now.

His frown grew deeper as the queen groaned softlyand her breathing became more labored, though she did not show any signs of awakening. She didn't even stir.

As he took in the pallid and nearly waxy appearance of her normally swarthy complexion, Dr. Linacre began to fear that the queen may soon be beyond all but God's help alone. If she had not reached that point already.

...

"He's a sweet prince," Elizabeth declared as she peered down into the cradle of little Prince Henry, or Harry, as Elizabeth herself had said she wished to refer to him so as to differentiate him from her Papa. She then looked to the other cradle that held her other brother, Prince Geoffrey. "They both are."

"Indeed they are, my precious jewel," Henry agreed as he lifted the little princess into his arms. "And they shall grow into strong, able young men who shall always love ad protect their dearest sister."

"Like the knights in the old tales?" Elizabeth's eyes, so like her beautiful mother's, were lit with delight.

Henry chuckled softly and nodded.

"Yes, sweetheart. Two princes as chivalrous as knights to protect their lady princess."

"Then I shall have two Sir Loyal Hearts instead of one," the little girl chirped.

Henry's mood darkened slightly and he furrowed his brow, trying to appear more curious than angry.

"Lady Mary once told me a story about a queen who once had a knight that always loved her and even wore her favor whenever he jousted to show that that love would last forever," Elizabeth told him, smiling innocently as she recalled the sweet story her elder half-sister had told her. "Everyone knew him as the queen's Sir Loyal Heart. Someday, I want to love someone like that, like you and Mama."

This only succeeded in furthering Henry's rage against his elder daughter. How dare Mary try to manipulate her younger sister! She may have no love for Anne, but she had no right to involve Elizabeth. But then it wasn't Anne's fault or Elizabeth's that Katherine had refused to accept the invalidity of their union and convinced Mary that she was a trueborn princess.

Henry had hoped that by keeping the pair apart, he would be able to wean his daughter away from her vindictive mother's poison. But now it was clear that it was too late; the girl was just as obdurate as her mother. Damn that proud, Spanish blood of theirs!

"Papa, are you alright?" Elizabeth's soft voice suddenly pulled the seething king from his thoughts.

"Y-yes, of course," he answered quickly, fighting to keep his composure for the sake of the sweet, young princess. "Darling, Lady Bryan will be expecting you for your mid-afternoon map, it would be best not to keep her waiting."

Elizabeth frowned, but nodded reluctantly. She saw Lady Bryan every day whereas she rarely ever got to see her Papa.

"I will come later," Henry promised. "Then perhaps we shall see your Mama if she is well."

He watched the young princess curtsy and leave the room. Lady Bryan, who had stood quietly to the side, was about to follow her out when Henry himself moved to stop her.

"Where is the Lady Mary?" he asked in a voice that conveyed his anger without alarming his daughter.

"The Lady Mary is seeing to the mending of the Princess Elizabeth's clothing," Lady Bryan answered nervously, worried that the king might believe such a task was too demeaning for his daughter to carry out, even if said daughter was merely a bastard.

Henry allowed a soft smirk. At least his younger daughter's governess was attempting to teach his elder, more impudent daughter her place. But now he would have to make it abundantly clear that Mary would receive no clemency or any measure of affection until she submitted to her father's will.

"Good," he said. "I shall go and see her. It's high time we have a talk. Better now with her here."

With that, he dismissed the governess, who immediately curtsied in relief and took her leave. But before the king could make good on his decision, footsteps came hurrying through the corridor.

"Let me pass!" Henry recognized the voice as that of one of his grooms. "Let me pass!"

"What is the meaning of this?" the monarch demanded.

The groom bowed.

"It's the queen, Majesty," the groom reported, panting as he attempted to regain his breath.

Without a word, Henry hurried into the direction of Anne's chamber.

When he reached it, he was greeted by Dr. Linacre.

"I have done all that can, sire," the normally composed doctor seemed almost frantic, which further unnerved his sovereign. "But Her Majesty remains unresponsive. Her body had been terribly weakened and continues to become more so."

Henry hurried past the physician and into Anne's inner chamber, and his eyes immediately took in the sickly shade Anne's flesh now boasted. Her hair, now loose lay damp and scattered about the pillow beneath her head, and her sunken eyes closed.

Her chest rose and fell slowly as she breathed heavily as though it were a struggle for her. As he took in the appearance of his wife, Henry felt his heart sink.

"Child-bed fever," he murmured in a defeated voice. "I know as my mother died from it."

For a moment, no one said a word, but then Henry ordered softly, "Out."

"Your Majesty?"

"Henry glared at him, then at Anne's ladies.

"All of you, out," his voice was as cold as ice and firm as stone. "Leave."

The men bowed and the ladies curtsied before taking their leave.

When they were alone, Henry moved closer to Anne's bed. As he reached it, he fell to his knees beside it and clutched Anne's hand, now clammy and sweaty in his own gently but desperately. His fingertips glided over her knuckles lovingly as his other hand rested upon her hair, which he proceeded to stroke tenderly.

"Don't go," he whispered as tears stung his eyes. "Don't go, just because you have done all that you promised to do..."

It couldn't happen. Not to Anne. She had survived the the sweating sickness, surely she would survive this as well!

Anne's eyelids twitched, but still she showed no signs of waking.

Henry looked upward to the heavens.

"Please, God," he pleaded softly. "In Your mercy...don't take her away from me...my sons need their mother...and I need my queen..."

...

Mary said nothing as Elizabeth's sobs echoed from the other room and she set aside her needle and the silk stockings that she had been mending.

Anne, the woman who had seduced her father, was dead. Such news should have brought Mary joy, and indeed it did. Though the joy was sullied by a devastating piece of news that loyal Eustace Chapuys had brought to her.

She had received him earlier that day, luckily without the knowledge of her father or even the ever watchful Lady Bryan, only to find that he had been dressed as though in mourning.

There had been a clear meaning; her beloved mother, who had fought so courageously, was dead.

From what Chapuys had been able to tell her before he was forced to leave, lest he be discovered, her mother had passed mere days after her half-brothers' christening. The queen had been very ill, and the shock of her rival's success had only worsened her condition.

Though the ambassador had also confided to her that he had heard her mother was examined after her death and her heart was found to be blackened, a sure sign of poisoning. And there was no doubt in Mary's mind that it had been Anne or one of her relations that had ordered it.

And now, the king's whore was dead too. Dead and unable to reap the benefits of her stolen rank.

The only bitter part of the matter for Mary was that Katherine had died first. That and the the fact that Anne had given Henry his long-awaited sons, sons that he would not allow anyone to slander or acknowledge their true statuses bastards. No, Henry would settle for nothing less than completely legitimacy for his sons. This also meant that Anne would, as his 'true wife', be buried with all of the honors that belonged to a queen by rights, rights that she had robbed Mary's poor mother of.

Meanwhile, Katherine had been hastily buried days before, her gravestone bearing the title 'Dowager Princess of Wales', the title she had resisted in life, with Mary, her only surviving child, unable to attend the funeral. Unable even to say goodbye.

Mary had discarded her more colorful gowns, what few she had left, in favor of black to demonstrate to all that she grieved for her mother's passing. Now she would be expected to mourn Anne's as well.

But she would not. She could not openly celebrate for fear of increasing her father's anger.

...

Charles didn't know how to respond when he heard the news.

Anne had died. Her sons remained healthy, but she had developed child-bed fever and died within days.

He felt no sympathy for Anne, who had outlived Queen Katherine, to whom she had brought so much pain and misery, as well as Princess Mary. But he did feel some measure of pity for the the infant twin princes, and especially for Henry, who had seemed to have fallen in love with Anne all over again, their marital troubles as of late all seemingly forgotten. Instead of seeing her as the one who had encouraged his cruelty, and blaming her for the death of his old friend and former chancellor, Thomas More, the king would now remember her as the wife who had given her life for their dear sons. Her memory would remain precious and all but flawless in his mind.

...

...

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all enjoyed it and the next brand new chapter will be out on Monday, November 19th. Until then, everyone.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Alright, let me start by apologizing for the delay. Due to starting a new job, preparing for Thanksgiving, as well as the madness of next month, I confess I was a little busy, but rest assured I added some extra length to hopefully make up for the lateness of this chapter. Thank you to Otakugirl1996, Robin4, QueenAnneTudor, gabbygrl247, heffy, princessElizabethtudor, Scifigrocerygal, Guest, SkittlezxBabex146, Guest, OlicityxSkyeWard, Frog1, Anne Tudor, and tricorvus for all of the wonderful reviews on the last chapter, as well as an additional thanks to Guest for the review on chapter 1. And that said, enjoy the new chapter and for those who celebrate it, Happy Thanksgiving!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

There was no denying that the people of England were a fickle lot.

George Boleyn snorted with disgust as he heard the toll of the mourning bells as they rang to let all the country know that Queen Anne had died.

Even if many believed him to be so, George was not stupid; he knew that the only reason that the people had come around was purely due to the fact that they all saw the birth of Anne's twin sons as a sign that her marriage to the king was blessed and valid. After all, she had mothered the two heirs as well as a princess all within the span of three years, and of course there was the miscarriage of her unborn son or daughter from the pregnancy following Elizabeth and preceding the twins. But the fact remained that she had given Henry three children, all of whom appeared to be healthy whereas Katherine had only yielded one single daughter, who suffered from poor health.

Anne had wanted the people to love her as they loved the king, just as Henry loved her, and as they had once loved Katherine. But she was always rebuffed in her efforts to help them, and yet here they were now mourning her, even more than they had done for Katherine; her death had finally made them love her. Instead of whispers about the harlot who had seduced the king from his wife in an attempt to gain a crown, people now openly praised Anne as sacrificing her own life to safely bring the long-awaited prince into the world. And even more magnificently, she had given the realm a spare as well, even at the cost of herself. The woman who had given them their precious princes and secured the Tudor dynasty, as well as ending the very real fear of another civil war, was now lost to them all and they knew it.

' _Hypocrites, the lot of them,_ ' George thought savagely as his hand balled into a fist. He could feel his nails digging into his palm, but he did not care.

The Viscount of Rochford himself was aggrieved over the loss of not just one, but both of his sisters, within the span of only months. Anne was dead and Mary, having been disowned by their father following her marriage to William Stafford, was far from court, forbidden from contacting her kin by any means.

George had been there when Thomas Boleyn ultimately cut ties with his eldest daughter, even going so far as to tell her that she and the husband she had married for love could both rot in hell. Anne had not wanted to support her father in this matter, but at the time she was pregnant with the twins, her last hope of securing her position and in doing so her daughter's safety, as well as the fact that the scandal would cause even more unnecessary trouble for her. With all of that weighing heavily upon her, Anne had reluctantly enforced her father's wishes and Mary had been banished in disgrace.

George had never really been all that close to Mary, not like Anne, but in that moment he would have given anything to disobey his father and send for Mary, so that at least the pair could comfort one another in this time. But he also knew now that there was someone else who was in desperate need of comfort...

His young niece, Princess Elizabeth, had been inconsolable over her mother's death, but had tried her best to reconcile herself with it, taking solace in the knowledge that she was now an older sister.

Elizabeth had solemnly promised to keep alive her Mama's memory so that her poor twin brothers would still know of her and the love that she held for them. After all, Mama would not have died for them if she had not loved them. And it was that knowledge as well that would assure that Elizabeth would never blame her brothers for what had happened when it was clearly not their fault.

George had been shocked at the gravity of the child's words. She had spoken with grace and wisdom that should have been far beyond her tender three years. But then, her governess had stated that the princess was indeed quite intelligent for her age and as such was a credit to Anne and Henry.

He had failed in his duty as their brother to protect Anne and Mary, but George swore to himself that this time he would not fail in his duty as Elizabeth's uncle.

...

Henry stared lovingly down at his infant son. Little Prince Harry had been taken to his wetnurse for feeding while Prince Geoffrey now lay in his father's arms, his tiny head gently cradled in the king's hand.

While the pair were twins, it was clear to all that they were not completely identical. Harry was indeed the living image of his father while Geoffrey took on more of their mother's looks.

Like Elizabeth, Geoffrey had inherited Anne's piercing eyes, and when Henry found them staring up at him, he felt himself embrace the younger twin closer to him.

Many would regard the little Duke of York as only a second son and nowhere near as important as his brother the Prince of Wales, but Henry could never see his younger son as only a 'spare'. Especially when he knew how being seen that way felt.

Henry had never been intended to be king, not when Arthur had been the eldest. The second Tudor prince had been destined for the church, a suitable position for the one who would never inherit his father's crown or kingdom.

But then Arthur had died, and all that would have been his became Henry's instead. But their father, King Henry VII, never stopped comparing Henry to his dead brother, which led Henry to not only resent his father but his deceased brother, with whom he had never been close anyway.

He would not make his father's mistakes. Harry was the heir, the future king, but Geoffrey was a prince too. In fact, it was only a matter of minutes that had separated the pair and even then it was merely a twist of fate that Harry had been born first instead of Geoffrey. It could have very easily been the other way around.

Both boys were twins, practically born in each other's arms and Henry would not allow anything, not even a few minutes apart, be the thing that would separate them. Harry would be taught to love his brother as his equal and Geoffrey would be taught to respect his elder brother's claim to the throne but at the same time be shown the same courtesies befitting his rank as a prince. Henry would never let his younger son know the pain he himself had felt. He was not his father, he would be better.

...

"The king won't see anyone, but his fool and Mr. Cromwell," Charles growled softly as he took a sip of wine and slammed his goblet on the table. "Except for yesterday when he called for the princes to be brought to him."

Catherine frowned. Even if she tried not to feel malice toward the young boys, she still could not forgive their wicked mother for all of her foul deeds.

"That bitch would have the final victory," Charles had now worked himself into a fine temper. "I suppose it will no longer be necessary to store my knowledge and anger in order to one day destroy her now. Since she's already taken my chance to do so."

"First, she has her sons so the king would never think of discarding her and now she goes and dies," Catherine remarked bitterly. "And now she will be forever remembered as a martyr instead of the despicable whore she was."

Charles shook his head. He had known Henry since they were children, he would never allow himself to see Anne now as anything more than the wonderful woman who gave him the sons he had craved for so long. No, even in death she had been victorious.

But there was a silver lining to this now; instead of trying to find a way to free himself of Anne, Henry was now free to marry Jane Seymour, free to finally obtain that renaissance that he had told Charles he so desperately wanted. And now he could pursue Jane without incurring Anne's petty jealousy or having to go through the process of annulling the marriage to Anne. She wasn't his true wife of course, but now she was dead. Katherine was too unfortunately for her and Princess Mary, but Charles had heard that Lady Jane was a supporter of the former queen and the princess and if Henry did indeed marry her, perhaps she could be helpful in restoring the princess to her rightful place.

...

Jane sighed as she looked to the clear blue sky.

It was not stiflingly hot nor was it too chilly out so she had decided to go for a walk with her sisters Elizabeth and Dorothy along the grounds surrounding Wolf Hall.

She would be lying if she were to say she did not miss the king's messengers coming to bring her a gift or letter from His Majesty. She had always sent them back of course, but it had been a great delight to her that the king should show her such favor.

Her brother Edward had even told her that due to the struggles in the king's so-called marriage to the Lady Anne, Henry might set his sights on taking her as a wife instead.

Queen Katherine had passed just days before Anne herself, but as a result of the true queen's death, the King was a widower and free to marry once more.

Jane knew that it was rare for one to marry for love, particularly in the cases of kings, and while she did mourn the death of Good Queen Katherine, she also knew that when a man or woman lost their spouse it was expected of the widow or widower to marry again, once more especially in the cases of kings.

The king may have convinced himself to refer to his sons by Anne as princes when in reality they were not, but perhaps if he were to heed his heart and marry her, Jane would be able to bear him sons, true princes. And in doing so, she could use that to her advantage by coaxing the king into restoring his daughter to the succession. Surely, the princess would not object to her brother, or brothers, being placed ahead of her by virtue of their sex, particularly when the same thing would have happened if Katherine's sons had survived past infancy.

When she was queen, Jane would see to it that Mary was restored and treated as a princess deserved, not forced to wait on a royal bastard like Lady Anne had convinced the king to enforce. But she would not allow her feelings toward Anne color those of the children the woman had borne. She would not be petty and spiteful like Anne had been; even the kings bastards would have cause to say she treated them kindly.

"When do you think the king will call on you again, sister?" Elizabeth asked, pulling Jane from her thoughts.

Jane sighed.

"I do not know," she admitted. "Perhaps when he has the time to do so again."

"You mean after he finishes crying over that whore," Dorothy frowned.

Edward had warned his sisters to take care of how they spoke of Anne, but in the seclusion of Wolf Hall, they did not think there was any reason to fear.

Jane sighed again as she nodded. She was eager to see the king again, but understood that even if he no longer loved Anne, he must show some semblance of grief for the sake of appearances. Then there was no doubt in her mind that once a sufficient time had passed, he would once more come about to court her. She needed only be patient and wait for him.

...

The lightness in Henry's heart when his sons had been brought to him had now left him the moment the twins were returned to the nursery.

Henry had known that he and Anne had had troubles in the last months of their marriage and after the births of their sons, there might have been a chance for them to reconcile, to be the happy and united couple they had been in the years of the Great Matter when the pair had been the dearest lovers in the world, when they were just two fools in love whom everyone had been determined to tear apart. But against all odds they had made it. Where had it all gone wrong?

A part of him couldn't help but think it was around the time after Elizabeth had arrived. She had been beautiful even as a baby, but Henry had been disappointed that despite the astrologers and soothsayers' assurances that Anne was carrying his son he was instead given another daughter.

Elizabeth grew to become intelligent, cheerful, and charming. But she wasn't a boy. Henry knew Katherine's supporters had seen the birth of a second daughter as a sign that the marriage between him and Anne was invalid and that he was wrong to leave Katherine and break away from the corruption of Rome. But now they had all been silenced.

While he now mourned the loss of Anne and the love that had once been between them, he was pleased that his sons continued to appear healthy.

Elizabeth was very gifted for a girl, but Henry had no doubt that his sons would be even more so. God had been generous in giving Elizabeth the traits she now displayed and surely He would be even more so toward the boys.

And then there was Jane...

Henry hadn't thought of her in some time, what with everything that had happened. But now, he found himself thinking of the conversation he and Charles had engaged in not long ago; how he wanted a new beginning, a Renaissance. And Jane, who was the complete opposite of Anne, could be just the woman to give it to him.

Anne had been fiery and passionate and Jane was sweet and demure. Even their looks could not have been more different; Anne, some had said when they believed Henry could not hear them, was not beautiful in the traditional sense with her dark hair and swarthy complexion, but Henry found such exotic looks attractive, as had some of the other men of court but they had not pursued her for fear of angering the king. But there was still something alluring about her due to her intelligence and wit. That, coupled with her skill in other languages, most notable French, had further added to the air of mystery that clung to her like perfume. Anne had spent most of her time growing up in France and at times had seemed more like a French woman than and English woman.

On the other hand, Jane was a true English Rose. From her milky white skin and pale blue eyes to her golden hair, she was lovely. She was also possessed of a much more gentle temperament and meekness that Henry himself found endearing and actually rather soothing after the years of the wiles of the far more fiery Anne. His chaste friendship with Jane had indeed acted as a balm to Anne's fits of rage, fits he was quite certain Jane would never allow herself to display.

His heavy heart lightened once more as he envisioned the life he could have with Jane. Her kindness would surely extend to Elizabeth, Harry, and Geoffrey, even if they were not her children. And with God's help, perhaps she could give him another child, many even. And most pleasantly of all, his motherless children by Anne would not have to live without a mother's love.

And so he made up his mind. After the time of mourning for Anne had passed, Henry would become the humble suitor that a virtuous maiden like Jane deserved. Perhaps before the year's end he would have a new wife, his sons and daughter would have a new mother, and perhaps if he were blessed with such fortune, his eldest daughter would finally submit and Jane might be with another child.

It would be perfect.

...

...

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all enjoyed it and the next brand new chapter will be out on Saturday, December 1st. Until then, everyone.

And once more, I wish those of you who celebrate it a Happy Thanksgiving.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Alright, as promised here is the new chapter. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, Frog1, Guest, Guest, OlicityxSkyeWard, QueenAnneTudor, tricorvus, Guest, and Robin4 for the last chapter, as well as an additional thanks to the Guests for the additional review on chapter 1. Thank you all and enjoy this brand new chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

Jane's wedding to the king had been wonderful, like a dream. But the one event that she had dreaded was the moment that was coming to pass right now; the time to meet her youngest stepdaughter.

Jane knew that she must address the girl as 'Princess' even if the prospect of having to do so was far from appealing, as she did not believe the child had any right to the title that truly belonged to her elder half-sister Mary, whom Jane knew she must speak with Henry about soon, before he could once again be persuaded by Anne's father and uncle to pressure his young daughter into signing the Oath, despite knowing that such a thing would go against the true princess's conscience.

As the king brought Elizabeth closer, it became clear to Jane that despite the girl being no older than three years, she was treated with every courtesy of a princess.

Even if she was not the heir now that her brothers had been born, a canopy of estate had been placed above her seat, which highlighted her royal status to all. And due to the so-called princes being mere infants, neither was present at court and so Elizabeth was the only member of the royal family aside from Henry and now Jane.

Elizabeth was now gazing at her with the same gaze that Anne had once given her when she caught the king's eye.

Jane knew she was likely being paranoid, but she couldn't help but feel a chill as the child regarded her with those eyes, Anne's eyes, as if she were sizing her up.

"My love, I present to you the Princess Elizabeth," Henry smiled, oblivious to his wife's discomfort.

"Your Highness," Jane forced herself to smile at the girl.

"Sweetheart," Henry turned to his young daughter as he whispered softly and jovially, "Say hello to the queen."

Jane smiled, but Elizabeth saw no warmth in her eyes.

If she were like other children of her age, the young princess would have run from the room or refused to acknowledge the woman who would try to take her Mama's place, but as a princess she had been carefully schooled in the rules of deportment and propriety for as long as she could remember. So, she forced herself to smile and curtstied prettily.

"Hello, Your Majesty," she greeted.

Henry chuckled and clapped, as did the courtiers, before he, Jane, and Elizabeth took their seats upon the dais.

As they sat there however, Jane could not forget the look Elizabeth had given her. Perhaps, even her being so young did not cloud the child's vision when it came to the woman who now occupied what was once her mother's place.

No, Jane shook her head. She was being paranoid. It was far more likely that little Elizabeth was still adjusting to her mother's death. Yes, that must be it.

It was nothing to do with Jane...

...

A part of Mary was delighted when she received the news; her father had come out of his period of mourning and taken another wife.

The lady's name was Jane Seymour, the same one the king had become fond of during this so-called marriage with the harlot.

Eustace had informed her of his hearings: Lady Seymour was a virtuous woman who had spoken in Mary's defense more than once to her father, gently urging him to reconcile with his eldest daughter and even restore her as heiress apparent. She was also said to be a good Catholic and a strong supporter of Katherine when she was alive.

These things all made her sound like a far more suitable candidate for a wife than Anne had been.

So, Mary had quickly penned a letter to her estranged father, congratulating him on his marriage to the new queen, as well as begging leave to tend to her new stepmother in whatever manner may please the lady.

Despite this wonderful new development however, there was one matter that still left a bitter taste in the former princess's mouth; because Henry continued to claim his union to Anne was valid, his sons by her were still acknowledged as the heirs to the English throne, as was Elizabeth.

Mary loved her little half-sister and she would do her best to love her half-brothers, but she could never bring herself to forsake her mother and Rome and lie that she was a bastard and her mother a liar who's first marriage was consummated when it was not...

Which was exactly why she still had not signed the Oath of Succession. And she never would.

...

A few months had passed, and Mary's resolve had not weakened. At least, not until Sir Francis Bryan, yet another one of Anne's accursed kinsman, had visited her in an attempt to bully her into forsaking her mother and her conscience and signing the blasted Oath. He had not been the first, nor would he be the last, but the thing that had truly unnerved Mary had been the fact that he had been the only one that had been brave enough to threaten her.

In that moment, the eldest Tudor girl felt glad that Sir Francis had no children, let alone daughters.

She had wanted to refuse again, but Chapuys, loyal Chapuys, had informed her that she would do herself no favors if she were to continue to refuse to submit to her father's wishes. For soon, her father would finally run out of patience and when he did, she would be in more danger than she could have ever imagined.

The once princess did not want to believe that her loving father could ever bring himself to put her to death, but this was not the man who had been such a powerful figure in her childhood, who had doted on and adored her despite the fact that she was only a girl instead of the boy he so craved. That man was long gone and in his place was an unpredictable man with a great temper and an even greater thirst for power. It would pain him to sign her death warrant, but he would do it and he would not allow himself to regret it. At least not until the deed had been done.

And so, with a heavy heart and trembling hand, Mary Tudor did the only thing she could.

...

Henry had been shocked at first when Cromwell informed him that his stubborn, first-born daughter had finally submitted to him and signed the Oath, and in ding so acknowledged herself as a bastard with no claim to the throne, nor any right to any affections of his unless he chose to show it to her.

And now that she had finally seen the error of her ways and admitted the truth, Henry had every intention of showing kindness to his once beloved daughter.

He also had received a report from Lady Bryan, who had since become the twins' governess, with the position of that in Elizabeth's household now being held by a Mistress Katherine Champernowne, who had served as a lady in the small princess's household previously, so the child had already taken to her.

In her report, Lady Bryan had diligently informed the king that both princes remained healthy and seemed to become stronger as they matured. Harry was already learning to sit up and Geoffrey was nearly able to roll over.

Of course the most welcome news had been that his precious boys were still healthy. Nevertheless, Henry had ordered that every care must be taken to ensure the boys' safety, as well as their comfort.

So far, everything was going quite well for Henry; he was married to his sweet Jane, his daughter had finally yielded, truly willing to forget the evil past by acknowledging her illegitimacy, his sons were healthy.

The only thing missing now, was for Jane to become with child.

...

...

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all enjoyed it and the next brand new chapter will be out on Monday, December 10th. Until then, everyone.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I thank you all for the reviews and hope you enjoy this new chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

It was early evening and Henry had finally finished with his duties for the day. Most of the day's work had centered around his plans for Jane's coronation. He had gone above and beyond when Anne had been crowned, and it seemed only fitting that his sweet Jane have the same courtesy.

Jane was a very shy and demure woman who during his courtship of her seemed to delight in only simple gestures of love, but he wanted this to be an exception, after all she would be a queen.

Of course they would have to wait until the birth of his son, but he was sure that wouldn't be much of a problem.

But now it was time for supper with his wife.

...

"Your Majesty."

Henry looked up from his meal. He had just finished discussing his plans for Jane's coronation, about building a ship just like the one the doge of Venice used to travel to the lagoon each year to renew his marriage vows with the sea, a ship in which Jane herself would ride to the city in order to be crowned Queen Jane of England. But it seemed this did not interest his wife nearly as much as he had hoped it would.

"Your Majesty, perhaps you would like to bring the Lady Mary to court?" Jane suggested with a timid smile. "Show her off."

"Mmm," Henry murmured as he attempted to distract himself with his food. He had no desire to have this conversation, not now not ever. But Jane persisted.

"It would be wonderful for the court and the realm to see that Your Majesty's family was united once more," she said, her soft blue eyes filled with earnest. "Just think of what everyone would think-"

She stopped as Henry stood and within moments was behind her chair, his hands upon her shoulders as he leaned to whisper into her ear.

"Jane, leave the greater things to my care," his voice was soft but there was a cold edge to it. "It is not your place to meddle in these particular affairs."

Jane said nothing as she tried not to flinch as Henry kissed her cheek, a direct contrast to his statement, so cold and forbidding.

Her elder brother Edward glared at her from behind the king's back. She knew she would be scolded when the pair where alone, as alone as they could be anyway.

Jane knew what she had requested was not without risk, but she could not just stand idle while the true princess of England was slandered as a bastard when she was indeed the king's only legitimate child. At least until Jane herself had a child.

She was nearly a year into her marriage and yet her womb remained empty, a disappointing fact that Henry never hesitated to point out. Nor did Edward. Jane was nervous, what would her husband do if, heaven forbid, she turned out to be incapable of bearing children?

She forced herself to look at Henry, hoping that her face did not betray her troubled thoughts. But if it did, the monarch showed no signs of noticing.

"Now, sweetheart," his smile had returned as though the last minute or two had not transpired. "I received word not long ago that we will be expecting a visitor. Two in fact."

His wife's pale eyebrows arched and knit together

"Whom?" She asked.

"To young boys I believe it's high time you met," was the only answer she received.

...

As they approached their first birthday, Henry and Geoffrey already showed signs of being strong and able boys.

Henry was pleased to see that not one, but both of his twin sons seemed to be robust and healthy.

Jane forced herself to smile as the twins were brought to her. She repeatedly told herself that who their mother was and what she had been was no fault of the boys and so it would not be right for her to allow her view of Anne influence her attitude toward the sons the woman had left behind.

"They are quite handsome..." she admitted after a few moments.

"Yes, they are," Henry looked pleased by the compliment toward his treasured boys. "Little Henry, or Harry as Elizabeth is so fond of referring to him, inherited his features from me. Geoffrey however took more after..."

His voice faltered but only slightly. Even still Jane could hear it. A part of Henry clearly still missed Anne.

Jane bit back a frown. She was his wife now, not Anne! Anne never even should have had the right to call herself queen!

"They are already so strong," Lady Bryan reported, her normally placid tone betraying a hint of pride. "Both feed well and cry rarely, as if they already know they are princes. Both are a credit to Your Majesty and the late queen as well."

Henry permitted a weak smile and recovered his voice.

"I thank you in your diligence, Lady Bryan, in caring for our beloved sons, as well as our sweet daughter before them. I could think of no one better to tend them," he declared in a voice as magnanimous as he could muster in order to make up for when he had allowed his tongue to escape him. After all, Lady Bryan's was indeed a notable task; overseeing the household of the twins, the two most treasured children in England.

...

Lady Mary Tudor had been raised from the time she was an infant that she should count her blessings, being thankful for what she had rather than forever wishing for more and especially things that could never be.

She was fortunate to be restored to her father's good graces, no doubt persuaded by his gentle new queen, she now had lovely lodgings at court, and her new stepmother was kind and loving to her and had more than once stated it was her deepest wish that they treat one another as such, a sentiment Mary herself agreed with.

But she was also still slandered as a bastard, with no place in the succession. Nor had a suitable match been found for her. No king would desire to betroth his son to an illegitimate daughter even if she were of marriageable age.

She also had to watch as her sister, the true bastard daughter, was doted on and continually hailed as a princess and her brothers princes.

Her beloved mother was gone and her father while seemingly forgiving, still seemed to hold her at a distance.

How could everything have gone so wrong? How could Anne have won? The vile harlot may have died but her sons lived on and the people who had once reviled her now remembered her as a martyr who had sacrificed her life for her sons, for the kingdom to have a future king and another prince, the lady who had opened their king's eyes to the evils of the Catholic church, who helped bring the Reformation to England.

Mary shook her head. The woman had only lit the fire that would soon become a raging inferno of true evil and corruption that would destroy England if left unhindered.

How could this have happened? Mary did not know. Something had to be done...and soon...

...

Despite being far too young to take part in any of the festivities, it had already been established that Harry and Geoffrey were to stay through Christmas and a few days into the new year, after which time they would be taken to their new nursery in Windsor while Elizabeth and her household would remain at Hatfield.

However, he had also pondered over the idea of setting up lodgings for whenever the little princess came to court. After all, the Lady Mary had lodgings there now and while she was a grown woman while Elizabeth was only a child, she was still only a bastard and her sister a true princess so it was only fitting that Elizabeth be shown the accommodations befitting her station.

Yes, he would speak with Cromwell in the matter later. For now, he had other things in mind.

...

...

Sorry this was shorter than intended but I promise the next one, which will be out tomorrow morning, will be much longer and filled with a few surprises.

Until then, everyone.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: As promised, here is the new chapter. Thank you to Robin4, Lizairy Cullen, princessElizabethtudor, Guest, and OlicityxSkyeWard for all of the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this new chapter and I wish you all a Merry Christmas.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 _ **December 24th, 1537**_

Jane had excused herself from the Christmas revels, stating that she felt ill.

In truth, she did but in more ways than one; it sickened her a great deal to be forced to once again watch as Anne's children were doted upon by the king and anyone who did not wish to awaken Henry's wrath showed them deference as the true princes and princess. Meanwhile poor Princess Mary was still being held at arms length by her father.

But Jane also had noticed she had missed her courses, had felt ill in the mornings but then perfectly well in the afternoon and evening. She also had developed a special fondness for quail. So much so that she desired the meat above any other delicacy available. That could only mean one thing...

"My lady stepmother."

Jane smiled as she recognized the voice and when she turned, there stood Mary, clad in the lovely gown of burgundy silk with gold sleeves that Jane had had made for her before Christmas so that she could wear it for the holiday revels. The girl's hair was pulled back by a wreath of holly and a finely wrought diamond and ruby necklace, another gift from Jane, adorned her neck.

Mary looked hesitant, but Jane had insisted that she address her by the title as she had no intention of usurping the place in the girl's heart that surely would always belong to her beloved mother, but she wanted to be a friend to her new stepdaughter and it was her most earnest desire that the girl who had suffered so much, and continued to do so, be entitled to as much happiness as she was able to give her. And despite her brother's wishes, she would continue to try to mend the broken bond between the true princess and her father.

"I...beg your pardon...Your Majesty," Mary curtsied and looked down demurely but also nervously.

"Sweet Mary," she took the girl's hands and squeezed gently and smiled reassuringly. "You may address me that way, as I told you previously."

"Yes, Your...yes...m-my lady stepmother," Mary permitted herself a weak smile as Jane kissed her cheek, setting her mind at ease.

Jane smiled but absently rubbed her stomach, her smile lessening but only for a moment.

Mary looked concerned.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Jane smiled once and placed a hand on Mary's shoulder.

"I am quite well," she said, her tone laced with joy. "It appears this Christmastide I have received the most wonderful gift..."

Her young stepdaughter pondered this for a moment before the girl's merry blue eyes widened.

"My lady is it true?" She gasped softly.

Jane nodded.

"I shall tell His Majesty in due time," she said, to which Mary nodded, her expression one of delight.

Since Katherine had passed before her father married Jane, Mary had no trouble seeing her father's marriage as true and valid.

Even if it hurt to know he had moved on from her mother, Mary was realistic enough to know that even if the Great Matter had never come to pass, if her father had never met Anne Boleyn, if Katherine had died first then Henry would, as king, been expected to marry again and provide England with heirs.

When he had met Jane, during his false marriage to Anne, in truth he had been a widower, free to marry again.

And so, whether it was a boy or a girl taking form in Jane's womb now, they would be hailed as a prince or princess, a fact that Mary herself had mixed feelings about.

She would not begrudge her little half-brother or sister their title as they would be born of a marriage between the king and his queen. But unlike Mary, this prince or princess would not likely be robbed of his or her rights like their elder half-sister. And that knowledge stung, even if she had known that would be the case for some time now.

Nevertheless, if the baby was a boy, Mary would not begrudge him his place in the succession as he was, unlike his elder half-sister Elizabeth and the twins, he would be legitimate and of course would be ahead of Mary even if she hadn't been barred from the line of succession purely by virtue of his sex. It would have been no different than if any of Katherine's sons had survived, Mary knew this and accepted it. And besides, her new stepmother had been far kinder than her previous one ever was.

...

Harry and Geoffrey's first year of life had brought Henry untold amounts of joy. His twins sons' first birthday mere months ago was now succeeded by their second Christmas, each milestone providing more assurance to Henry that his boys were strong and healthy, just like their father.

A part of him still, and he felt always would, miss his darling Anne, whom he actually found himself wishing once was still here by his side, preparing for the Yuletide celebrations and of course showing the court and common people alike that their royal family was united and happy.

But at the same time, Henry found that he was pleased with Jane. She was sweet, amiable, her only flaw was her lack of a pregnancy despite all of the king's attentions. But for now he would let that be. He would deal with it in time.

"Papa!"

The king was pulled out of his thoughts as his daughter, the Princess Elizabeth, greeted him with a curtsy and a kiss on the cheek.

Henry smiled and pulled the four-year-old into his arms.

"Happy Christmas, sweetheart," he murmured into her ear.

"Happy Christmas," Elizabeth giggled before snuggling against her father's chest.

Henry took in the little girl's appearance; her eyes still looked so like her mother's but all of her other features were of him. She was a true Tudor princess with her soft hair, now a striking red-gold, held back by a circlet of holly, and her dress a deep shade of emerald-green over a gold damask petticoat and a lovely gold necklace set with delicate emeralds about her neck.

Henry was sure that had Anne lived, she would be just as pleased to see the vision standing before him now.

Little Harry and Geoffrey were then brought to him so that he could show the people their princes, the boys for whom he and the realm had waited so long. Normally the king would have worried about the risk of contagion afflicting his boys, but he was sure that this time it would be alright as there had been no noted outbreaks at courts as of late. Though he had heard there had been one or two in Windsor and so found himself wondering if he should consider another location for the twins' new household.

At the age of a year old, the princes were not old enough to be breached for another five years and so when they were brought to him, Harry was clad in a gown of crimson satin trimmed with embroidery of gold. Geoffrey wore a nearly identical gown of emerald-green trimmed with embroidery of silver, albeit less embellished than his brother's clothing.

"Their Royal Highnesses, Prince Henry, Prince of Wales and Duke of Cornwall, Prince Geoffrey, Duke of York, and Princess Elizabeth!" The herald called out.

The courtiers applauded as the children reached their father.

"My children have arrived!" He announced to the court as the princes were placed in his lap.

"The queen!" The herald called out as the music began, signaling the arrival of Jane.

Jane's golden hair was held in place by a circlet of holly and she wore a simple but lovely gown of russet silk and a pale green satin petticoat, and a simple ruby necklace with matching earrings.

"Madam," Henry greeted her without standing due to the children in his arms.

"Your Majesty," Jane curtsied prettily, as did Mary before the pair took their seats.

A part of Mary couldn't help but open her heart as she laid eyes upon her brothers. Much as she hated to admit it, Harry was her father's spitting image and Geoffrey, while he favored the woman Mary could never bring herself to love, it could not be denied that he was a beautiful boy as well.

She once again reminded herself that they were not to blame for their mother's offenses. She vowed then and there to love them as she had loved Elizabeth, even if she never could bring herself to refer to them by their pretended titles.

"Would you like to hold Harry?" Elizabeth asked her when she saw Mary gazing at the boy, not realizing that she had spoken loudly enough to capture Henry's attention.

Henry turned and glanced at his eldest daughter, his expression unreadable. Perhaps he was worried that she might attempt to harm the child if he allowed her to hold him. If so, Mary wished she could allay her father's fears. But any attempt to reassure him may only increase his paranoia that she would and it hurt that he believed her to be capable of such a thing.

But then most surprisingly, the king smiled and nodded, helping to gently hand Mary the gurgling Harry, who squirmed slightly but did not fuss as Mary cradled him in her arms, gently supporting his head while Geoffrey remained nestled in Henry's.

" _Joyeux Noël, Votre Majesté",_ little Elizabeth murmured to her father.

" _Merci, ma petit,"_ Henry replied before turning to face the court and announcing loudly " _Je suis en famillie!"_

Once again the court erupted in applause and cheers at the sight before them.

Jane and Mary smiled at Henry and then at each other. Henry smiled before noticing the way a certain gaze seemed to shift between his wife and daughter.

"Are you ladies conspiring something?" He asked.

"I have a gift for Your Majesty," Jane said softly. "Something I hope with all my heart will make you very happy."

"Oh?" Henry looked intrigued.

"I seemed to have developed a fondness for quail," Jane spoke, hoping her husband would detect the hint.

Henry nodded absentmindedly before his eyes widened slightly.

"A special fondness?" He questioned.

Jane nodded.

"I find I desire quail above all else," she said.

Henry looked at her stomach.

"My darling..." he whispered, the people around him all seeming to disappear. "Are you...?"

"I am," Jane answered, unshed tears of joy in her pale blue eyes.

The king let out a hearty laugh and leaned back into his seat, little Geoffrey still in his arms and seemingly oblivious to his father's outburst.

"A truly wonderful gift!" Henry all but cheered.

...

...

Well, here we are, folks. The pregnancy that Jane has been waiting for. But should the baby be the future Prince Edward or should she have a girl first? I'll let you lovely readers decide that one. But choose carefully and the next update will be out either tomorrow as a Christmas Day gift for you all or December 31st. Until then, everyone. I again wish you all Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

Also, reviews make great Christmas presents, as well as belated birthday presents, as my birthday was last night ;)

And for those who are curious as to why I had Jane craving quail rather than quail's eggs, I have read several articles that concluded that in history Jane Seymour had a craving for quail meat not eggs and as a result, King Henry ordered it brought from Calais as quail was out of season in England.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: A hundred reviews! Yay! Thank you to everyone who enjoys this story. It appears I was unable to provide a Christmas Day present as well, but I hope you will enjoy a post-Christmas update instead. To all of the readers that have enjoyed this story and to princessElizabethtudor, Robin4, OlicityxSkyeWard, Guest, Lizairy Cullen, suns and stars, ariella, Candy Momo, Demi3456, Keisha, Princess Mary, Lady Eleanor of Slytherin, Guest, and QueenAnneTudor who all reviewed on the last chapter, as well as Guest for the additional review on chapter 7, I thank you and hope you enjoy this brand new, incredibly long chapter.

And Guest: Have I really become so predictable?

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _February 1st, 1538_**

Jane sat in her chambers with her ladies, all of them embroidering or sewing. Most of their work consisted of clothing for the newest addition to the royal family, even though the child wasn't expected until early autumn.

Jane was very hopeful that the child would be a boy and was already stitching a christening gown for the babe she would have in her arms within a few month's time.

She pondered over names for the new prince of England. She could not name the baby Henry since Anne had already named her son that, and while she had a brother named Thomas, she knew if she named her son that, it would not only cause her brother Edward to feel slighted but it would also appear to everyone that she had named the boy for the Duke of Norfolk or the Duke of Wiltshire. And that would be unacceptable. Especially with the latter's latest increase in fortune.

Shortly after the twin princes' Christmas at court, Henry had named Thomas Boleyn Duke of Wiltshire. And ever since then, the man had been nothing short of insufferable.

Anne was gone, but her last triumph ensured that as long as at least one of the twins lived, her relations were untouchable. Even Jane's brothers were not as highly favored by the king as Anne's father, uncle, and even her brother were.

The only one Jane could truly find company in was Lady Rochford, formerly Lady Jane Parker, the wife of George Boleyn.

Lady Rochford was a pleasant enough lady who, while a bit of a gossip, never shared details of her time in Jane's service with her husband's family. Her sister Dorothy had warned her that the Boleyns might have sent Lady Rochford into the queen's household as a spy, but Jane believed her sister was merely being paranoid.

Elizabeth Seymour, Jane's other sister and principal lady-in-waiting, looked up from her embroidery hoop at the newest addition to Jane's household, a young and fresh-faced little thing known as Lady Ursula Misseldon.

Ursula was a comely enough woman with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes, and she seemed to have many admirers at court, including Sir Francis Bryan. But Lady Rochford had informed Jane that Lady Misseldon was already promised to Sir Richard Tavistock.

"I don't like the way the king looks at her," Elizabeth hissed to Jane as she finished embroidering a tiny cap and set it to the side with the other completed garments. "The way his eyes seem to follow her. I wouldn't be surprised if she becomes his new whore."

Jane took care not to show her worry, as she wove the needle through the soft white silk of the christening gown, scarcely missing a stitch.

"The king does as the king wishes," she reminded her sister. "It is we, sister who are bound to honor and obey. Remember that."

Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. If there was one thing she didn't really like about her sister was that Jane could be a very passive woman. Especially where her royal husband was concerned. He had recently ordered that his four-year-old daughter, the princess pretender Elizabeth, be given lodgings at court. A certain set of rooms in the palace would now serve as her nursery for whenever she was at Whitehall, such as she was now.

Earlier that day, Elizabeth had seen Lady Mary and her half-sister walking in the gardens.

As the king's supposed bastard, Mary was forced to walk behind Elizabeth as the pair made their way through the flowerbeds and fountains and groves, all under a blanket of snow.

This angered the Seymour lady and she found herself feeling indignant on the true princess's behalf, but knew she could neither do nor say a thing about it. But if the babe in Jane's womb was indeed a boy, perhaps it would enable her to gain influence over the king and she might be able to persuade His Majesty to treat his eldest daughter with more kindness and respect. And that in turn may lead him to finally open his eyes and focus more on the interests of his legitimate children rather than the little bastards Anne gave him.

...

Lady Ursula Misseldon tried to still her shuddering as she made her way back to Queen Jane's chambers.

Sir Francis Bryan had proposed that she become his mistress not even an hour ago while she had been running an errand for the queen.

She had heard that Bryan was a man of a less than savory reputation, a rumor confirmed by his brazen attempt at seduction, seeming to care little to none for the fact that Ursula herself was betrothed.

She had also noticed the king's eyes following her as she went about her tasks as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Jane, doing whatever it pleased the queen to command of her.

Ursula could see the lust in King Henry's eyes. He looked at her as though he were on one of his hunts and she was a doe to be hunted and conquered. And she was sure that the queen had seen it as well.

It was natural for the king to take mistresses, particularly whenever his wife was with child, but after what had transpired not two years ago between Queen Jane and the former Queen Anne, Ursula found she did not want to be the lady to cause her mistress to miscarry as Jane had nearly done with Anne.

...

Jane gently traced a hand over her belly. To think England's newest prince was inside, just waiting for his chance to be born.

A small hint of doubt soon began to take root and began to claw at Jane's happiness at the idea of presenting the king with a trueborn son.

He had been so happy at the thought of a third boy, but would he be as thrilled if the child, heaven forbid, happened to be a girl?

Surely the king could not close his heart to a beautiful and healthy girl...at least that was what Jane thought until the memory of another beautiful daughter of the king's that he had forsaken for so long and treated so cruelly.

And what of Mary? What place would she have within the ranks of the royal family if she were to be supplanted by her younger sister? Unlike Elizabeth, if this child were a girl, no one could slander her as a bastard. But that would still leave Mary's position in question. And Jane couldn't abandon the girl she loved as her own.

But if this child were a boy, there was no doubt in Jane's mind that that would be a far more preferable outcome all around.

...

When she had finally finished the christening gown, Jane watched as one of her ladies took the tiny garment, neatly folded it, and placed it with the others.

"I will make a gift for the Lady Mary," she said, smiling at the thought of the young woman whom she was now pleased to see was being shown more kindness from the king.

As the time for Jane to enter confinement drew nearer, the king's mood seemed to become lighter and lighter. And it gave Jane great joy to see that her unborn son was already making life so much easier on his eldest half-sister, who had far too long been mistreated.

Henry had voiced the thought of Emperor Charles standing as godfather to the baby as it would help to strengthen the alliance between the two kingdoms. After King Francis of France had been named Prince Harry's godfather and his son the Duke of Angouleme betrothed to Princess Elizabeth, a new alliance had been struck between England and France. And as the Emperor had now acknowledged the twins and Elizabeth as Henry's legitimate heirs, the latter was more inclined to discuss the details for a new alliance between Spain and England as well. There had even been talk of betrothing the new prince to Charles's daughter, the Infanta Juana, but nothing set in stone yet. After all, the boy had not yet arrived.

"I knew it."

Jane was pulled from her thoughts by her sister Elizabeth's voice.

Elizabeth's face twisted into a scowl as Lady Misseldon exited the queen's chambers.

...

"Your Majesty," Dorothy turned to Jane. "Sister...I wasn't sure if we should tell you, but..."

"The king has taken Lady Misseldon as a mistress," Lady Rochford stated gently albeit a touch bluntly. She knew the matter was an uneasy one, but it would be far worse if they deliberately prolonged the reveal.

For a moment, Jane herself said nothing, but Dorothy and Elizabeth both glared at Lady Rochford.

"We were trying to find a way to explain the matter more delicately and with more tact," Elizabeth sniffed. "This is not something the queen needs to hear from just anyone. I am her principal lady-in-waiting, not you."

"His Majesty must do as he will," Jane spoke suddenly before another word could be said. "It is we, ladies, who must always honor and obey."

Lady Rochford nodded and returned to her task, but Dorothy and Elizabeth continued to look sullen.

Jane smiled at the pair, touched that they cared so much, but determined to reassure them.

"Sisters, please do not be troubled for me. I shall soon be a mother and so have great reason to be happy."

The two younger Seymour ladies both sighed, but forced themselves to nod and do as their sister and queen bade them.

...

Before long, the queen set aside her needle and retired to her chambers.

As Lady Rochford and Lady Misseldon sat near the hearth to continue their work as the day grew later so they could see by the light of the fire, Dorothy and Elizabeth made their way to the pair, both determined to finish what had begun earlier that day.

"You are a Boleyn by marriage and so have everything to gain if you had caused Her Majesty unnecessary distress," Elizabeth stated, her gaze searing as she stood before Lady Rochford.

"Distress would have only been brought on by continuous delays, as you yourself were doing when you attempted to deliver the news," Lady Rochford frowned. "Distressing Her Majesty was never my intention, I can assure you of that."

"Perhaps you were the one that helped Ursula ensnare the king," Dorothy accused. "After all, you are bound to the Boleyns and the Howards and everyone knows that when Jane has her son-"

"What the king does and whomever he chooses to do so with is no concern of mine," Lady Rochford replied coldly. "The only man with whom I concern myself is my husband, George. Perhaps if the pair of you had husbands of your own, you would do the same rather than worry for someone else's."

"If I were promised to a man, I can assure you, Lady Rochford, that I would not follow in the footsteps of certain individuals who consent to whore themselves to married men, particularly when the man in question possesses a wife who is with child," Dorothy spat, flushing somewhat at the slight that she and Elizabeth remained unmarried despite being the queen's sisters.

Lady Misseldon flinched at this remark directed at her, but then found a fire igniting within her and spurring the action she took next.

"You would not consent to lie with a married man, perhaps," she began softly. "But I see that your sister was not possessed of such morality, as His Majesty did have a wife before her, yet it did little to prevent your sister from attempting to seduce him, even when it nearly cost the king his two dear sons, both of whom survived the ordeal thanks be to God."

Both Seymour sisters gasped and backed away, looking as though they had been struck a severe blow.

"You will pay for this," Elizabeth swore, pointing a shaking finger at the ladies before her. "Lady Misseldon, you will not be the king's mistress forever. He will tire of you and cast you aside. Sir Tavistock may decide not to marry you and your only hope of contracting a good marriage will be if the king decides to intercede on your behalf."

"And the Boleyns and Howards will soon sink back into obscurity where they belong," Dorothy added with a satisfied smirk.

With that, the Seymour sisters turned and stalked off, murmuring to one another, perhaps trying to concoct a story that would no doubt cast Rochford and Misseldon as the villains and they the victims.

"Pay them no heed," Lady Rochford shook her head and patted Lady Misseldon's hand gently. "My husband George has heard it on good authority that the king means to find a suitable arrangement for you if Sir Richard breaks your pledge."

"I love him not," Ursula confessed, her tone laced with apathy. "Sir Richard is a weak-willed man who depends upon the men around him to give him the strength he should have been born with. Perhaps he should wear a gown and take my place in the queen's household."

Lady Rochford permitted a soft laugh at this. She herself knew that men often sought pleasure outside of the marital bed, and while her marriage to George was a happy one, though it had not been that way at first, not all matches were, particularly in the case of nobles. Love had little to do with a marriage, the true value lay in power and wealth, financial and political security as opposed to affairs of the heart. And Lady Misseldon could do little but yield to the attentions of the king, who would not have taken kindly to any refusal.

...

George Boleyn had never been more thankful to his sister than he was now.

Before her death, Anne had asked him to treat his wife Jane more kindly. Though he had not really wanted to marry the woman at first, he had been made to and despite their rough beginning, the two now enjoyed a bit more understanding relationship. Though George himself couldn't distinguish whether it was truly their passion finally ignited or if they were drawn together by their protectiveness toward young Elizabeth and the little twin princes.

The door to his chambers opened and in walked none other than his wife, Lady Jane.

"The queen will soon enter her confinement," she reported. "Those two vile harpies she calls sisters will join her, as will Lady Misseldon, and Madge."

George nodded. Madge and Jane were the only two ladies that remained from when Anne had been queen. The Seymour wench had dismissed all of the others. Nan Saville, who had been one of Anne's most loyal ladies, had been the first to go, but George had arranged for her to join Elizabeth's household. The Viscount of Rochford knew that it was what Anne would have wanted, and while she would have been disappointed at how things seemed to have turned out, she would have also been pleased to see that Jane had become a valuable ally.

Jane made no secret that she adored her little niece and nephews and as a result, her remaining a lady in Queen Jane's household enabled her to act as the Boleyns' eyes and ears within the household. Her father-in-law, Thomas Boleyn, had once stated that even if the twins were to remain healthy, if the queen bore the king a son, the twins and even Princess Elizabeth could be placed in danger and so they must all do whatever it took to ensure that the children never came into harm's way.

Anne had interceded on Jane's behalf, she had convinced George to treat her with more care. And Jane knew she would forever be indebted to her departed sister-in-law as a result. She had never met her other sister-in-law, but George had mentioned her in passing a short time before.

"Perhaps your sister Mary would like to meet her niece and nephews as well, husband," Jane suggested as the pair sat upon George's bed.

George frowned. He missed Mary terribly, especially now with Anne being gone. But his father would never forgive him, nor would he ever be allowed to forget it if he were to go against the older man and contact Mary when she had been disinherited and forbidden from ever approaching any of them ever again. All because she had done exactly as Anne had done; married the man she loved.

 _'Only Mary's husband didn't offer a crown and kingdom,_ ' George thought bitterly. Had William Stafford boasted great noble credentials and estates, Thomas Boleyn would have more than readily welcomed the man into the family.

"George, she is your only remaining sister," Jane took his hands in hers and squeezed earnestly. "I beg you, for the love you bear Elizabeth, Harry, and Geoffrey, please...don't deny them the love of their aunt any longer. She could help them remember their mother even more than you or I."

This was true; while George had remained in England during his education, both his younger and elder sisters had spent the majority of theirs in France. As a result, there was no doubt that Mary would be able to tell Anne's children a great deal about the mother they had all seen so little of when she passed.

George sighed and looked his wife in the eyes, hoping she could see that he wished to see his sister too. But it would be a challenge to do so.

"I shall do what I can," he said, knowing he could not promise it completely.

 ** _September 24th, 1538_**

Evening had just fallen over Whitehall, and Jane and her ladies had just been preparing for bed.

As Dorothy and Elizabeth helped their sister from her gown, which she had informed them seemed to grow tighter by the hour all throughout that day.

Elizabeth smiled, knowing that it meant her sister's child, her new nephew, would be with them soon.

Dorothy steadied Jane and led her to her bed, rubbing the queen's shoulder encouragingly when suddenly Jane gasped and fell forward. Thankfully Dorothy had had an arm wrapped around her or she would have fallen to the floor.

"Your Majesty!" They both gasped, along along with Lady Misseldon and Lady Rochford.

"Never fear, ladies," Jane regained her composure as Dorothy eased her into bed. "But I think my time has come."

"Fetch the physician!" Elizabeth barked at Lady Misseldon, who promptly hurried off.

...

"Majesty, it's happening!"

Henry gasped as his groom ran into the room. A part of him worried for Jane as he had lost a mother and a previous wife to childbed fever, he did not wish to lose another wife, particularly one as sweet and kind as his precious Jane.

"Send my physician to watch over her," he instructed the man before turning to another, "And you, send some heralds into the city to deliver the news."

The men bowed and scurried away to perform their respective tasks.

Henry turned to Charles, his expression a cross between worry and delight.

"God willing we will have another prince in the royal nursery," he said jubilantly.

Charles nodded.

"God willing," he actually smiled.

It would cost the Duke of Suffolk nothing to admit that he would be pleased to see Queen Jane bear Henry an heir, especially as she had done so much already to reconcile the king to his daughter, unlike Anne who had been content to let the poor former princess remain a servant, and for her daughter at that!

If Jane gave Henry a son, the realm would have a true prince, not a pair of pretenders like Anne's bastard twins. Of course he would never say this out loud.

...

"I can see the head!" The midwife shouted over Jane's screams of pain as contractions coursed through her body.

Jane squeezed her sisters' hands, another contraction ripping through her body and another scream tore from her lips as she gave another push.

"One more, Your Majesty!" The midwife called to her. "You're doing well, just one more and the little one will be here!"

"Janey, don't give up!" Dorothy cried, pulling her sister's golden hair, now drenched with sweat, from her forehead. "Please, for the babe don't give up!"

With a fierce cry of agony, Jane gave one final push and was rewarded when an infant's lusty cry filled the room as the king's latest child slid from his mother's womb and into the world.

"Your Majesty has given birth to a beautiful baby girl."

...

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I admit I did a bit of a time skip here because the pregnancy would have dragged on and eventually it would have detracted from the story itself, so a decision had to be made. But that said I do so hope you all enjoyed it. The next chapter will be out on Monday, December 31st. Until then, everyone. Once again, Happy Holidays to all.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Alright, as promised here is the brand new chapter for you lovely readers. I hope you all enjoyed the holidays, and as we leave 2018 behind, thank you to OlicityxSkyeWard, princessElizabethtudor, Guest, jamestudor, QueenAnneTudor, Pietrolives, suns and stars, and Demi3456 for all the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy this brand new chapter and may you all have a Happy New Year.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _September 25th, 1538_**

Jane never thought it would be possible, but she found that she actually felt some degree of sympathy with Anne Boleyn now that she was in the same position the other woman had been in.

No...Anne had not had to contend with Katherine already having two sons in the royal nursery while she struggled to achieve the same. Had Katherine borne Henry even one son, he never would have strayed from her and been ensnared by Anne and her promises to give him a son.

How could a vile, heretical harlot like Anne have had two sons whose resemblance to their father the king would allow no one to dispute their being Henry's children when good women like Katherine and Jane had tried and all both had yielded were daughters?

Jane couldn't understand it, but at the same time she smiled when she saw her baby girl.

A soft layer of pale blonde hair already adorned her tiny skull and her eyes were a pale blue like her mother's.

Jane felt she could see traces of Henry's York ancestors on his mother's side, but not much of Henry himself. Nevertheless, the child's resemblance to her father's maternal relations might help soften the disappointment Jane was sure the man would feel now that he had to contend with the fact that his long-awaited son by Jane had not been and he now had a third princess instead.

She was not sure what her husband would wish to name a third daughter, but she had a name in mind; Margery for her mother who had passed before she could see her eldest daughter married and become a mother herself.

"His Majesty, the king!"

Jane's hair had been combed and now hung down her back in a curtain of golden locks and she and the babe had been cleaned and placed in a freshened bed, the infant swaddled and now resting contentedly in her mother's arms.

"I hear you have borne a daughter," Henry was smiling and his tone was gentle but Jane could see the disappointment in his eyes. Was this how Anne had felt when she had given him Elizabeth?

"Yes, Your Majesty," she answered meekly, impulsively hugging her child closer to her, almost as if her body was afraid that her husband would take the baby away.

"Is she healthy?" The king turned to Dr. Linacre, who nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty, from what we can detect this far," the physician answered.

Henry then shifted his gaze back to Jane.

"If we can have a healthy daughter then surely we can have a healthy son," he said before turning and walking toward the door.

"What does Your Majesty wish to name the new princess?" Jane asked softly.

Henry looked back, his expression unreadable.

"Call her what you like, Madam," he answered in a hollow voice, before turning around.

Jane turned to her baby. She was disappointed that a boy had not been born first but she had always wanted a daughter.

"Her name is Margery," she declared, though Henry gave no indication that he had heard her.

After the infant was christened and Jane herself churched, the blonde queen was dismayed to find that while she knew the festivities celebrating the birth of a princess were not as grand as those celebrating the birth of a prince, the events for Margery were without as much pomp and ceremony as Elizabeth's but about the same as Mary's.

It was so unfair that the infant should suffer such indignity when she and her half-sister Mary were the only ones who could claim true legitimacy. And yet Elizabeth was the one accorded the honors due to a Princess of England. But Jane could say and do nothing about it.

...

Mary was disappointed for her stepmother when she learned of her child's birth and the king's cold reception of his newest daughter, as if a healthy girl were something to be ashamed of rather than being happy and proud of this new little blessing he had so graciously been given.

Mary herself couldn't help but be delighted at the prospect of another sister to love and to one day play with and teach to be a good lady and someday, little Princess Margery would be a fine bride for any king or prince to claim as his own.

At the thought of marriage, Mary tried to force herself to think of something else, not wanting to once again be forced to accept that her father had yet to offer any arrangements for her to marry.

She was twenty-one years old. She ought to have been long since married with at least one child of her own by now. And yet here she was, still a maiden and the only children she tended were her little half-siblings. Would she ever be married or would her father force her to remain unwed and let her die an old maid? She was too afraid to think of the answer.

...

Charles was horrified.

It wasn't enough that he had been forced to go back on his word to those who had participated in the Pilgrimage of Grace. No, now Henry wanted to rub salt in the crusaders' wounds and have Charles use hundreds of innocent women and even children as a fearful example to any who might attempt to oppose the king in the future.

It was wrong, the people had done nothing to warrant such harsh punishment. The leaders had been dispatched, it should have been ended now. But Henry never settled for less than complete victory.

"What if they were your own children?" Catherine had asked him.

"I would still have to do it."

In truth that was the only answer he could give her. If he lost the love of his king and dear friend, all was lost. Why couldn't she see that?

The door opened to reveal Catherine. She did not speak or even look in his direction as she sat by the hearth, stroking her belly.

The babe that would have been their firstborn had been lost and now Catherine had announced she was once again with child mere hours ago.

Charles sighed.

"Catherine," his tone was soft but she flinched as if he had shouted at her. She stiffened but made no effort to face him or address him.

"Catherine, please speak to me," he pleaded quietly.

Still no response, other than her peering into the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance.

"Catherine!"

Charles slammed his goblet of wine on the table and hurried over to her.

"We must speak," he said. "Now."

"There is nothing to say," Catherine said coldly, attempting to push past him.

Charles didn't even think about what he was doing, his anger had caused him to take leave of his senses and now his body seemed to have a will of its own.

As Catherine tried to flee, Charles reached out, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" The Duke of Suffolk exclaimed angrily, furious with her for the way she had looked at him, and how she had treated him as though he chose this. "You blame me for this, I know that. But remember if I had not obeyed the king, my head would be the next to be mounted on a spike. And was it not you, my 'dear wife' who told me not long ago to do what I must to keep my head?"

"Charles," all traces of coldness had left Catherine and her eyes were filled with terror. She had never seen Charles so angry, not even at Anne Boleyn.

Her soft voice, that usually had soothed his anger, now only further infuriated him and he tightened his grasp on her wrist until the skin underneath his fingers turned a stark and alarming shade of white.

"Charles, let go of me!" Catherine cried out, trying in vain to pull her wrist free.

"What if they were my own children? Would you have been concerned if they had been Protestants instead of Catholics?" Charles knew he was on dangerous ground but he was too livid to care. "Or would you have thought they were heretics who deserved to burn in hell?"

Catherine was crying now and tugging her arm weakly.

Charles shoved her away and stormed off to his chambers. He could feel regret seeping into his mind and heart, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to speak to his wife. She had made him feel even more guilty for long enough. It was done and nothing could change that.

...

Mary smiled as she held the new little princess in her arms.

Her father may have been disappointed that the babe was a girl, but his eldest daughter found she was very fond of her newest little half-sibling.

Harry and Geoffrey were still too small to understand what had happened, but Elizabeth had been a little more reserved when it came to the idea of another daughter.

Mary couldn't help but think perhaps the younger girl was worried that their father would be less affectionate to her if there was another little girl to lavish affection on.

While she knew from experience exactly how that felt, Mary also knew Elizabeth would more than likely have no such trouble; Mary had been there when her father expressed his disappointment that Jane had only given him a girl when he had so wanted another son. But due to her resembling him the most, as well as being Harry and Geoffrey's sister, Elizabeth was never short of attention, attention Mary herself had been on the receiving end of once.

...

...

Alright, so I hope you all enjoyed that new chapter and the next one will actually be out tomorrow. Just a little heads up, I have decided to skip ahead once again in the next chapter, this time to about two years. Don't worry, folks. There will be plenty to make up for the skip, I can assure you of that. Until tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: 2019 is here! Alright, now that that excitement is out of the way, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter of the new year. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, Guest, OlicityxSkyeWard, Robin4, suns and stars, elizabethgolden, and Guest for the wonderful reviews on last year's (lol I'll stop now) chapter and I hope you all enjoy this one as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _May 27th, 1540_**

Henry was beside himself with delight. After two years, his wife, Queen Jane, was with child once again. The king hoped and prayed daily that this new child would be the boy he had hoped for during her last pregnancy.

He was thrilled with his twin sons, but he still longed for a son by Jane as well. And he didn't doubt that little Harry and Geoffrey would be pleased with a little brother, especially with how much they adored their little sister.

While he had been disappointed at her birth, Henry found that he loved his sweet little Margery. She was her mother in miniature with her golden tresses and eyes as blue as the clear, bright sky.

When she had been told that she would soon be an older sister, the youngest Tudor princess had reacted rather curiously about the news, but that could more than likely be attributed to her young age.

God willing, Henry would have a son before the year was out. He had his twin sons, his two perfect little princesses, and even Lady Mary had reconciled with the rest of the family. It seemed like all was well in his family. Finally.

...

"Ambassador Chapuys, Your Majesty," Elizabeth Seymour smiled at her sister as she led the Spanish ambassador into the queen's outer chamber.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Jane stood and held out her hand for Chapuys to kiss before dismissing her ladies, all except for Lady Mary, who had come to see her earlier that day.

"Your Majesty, it is such a pleasure to see you again," Chapuys smiled warmly at the queen.

"And you as well, Excellency," Jane nodded. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"As you are aware, my master previously proposed a contract between Don Luis and the Lady Mary's Grace," Chapuys dearly wished he could refer to the long suffering princess by her true title but he was still unsure of the risk of unfriendly ears listening in.

Jane nodded

"I am. However, His Majesty has offered no further details on the matter, but I shall do what I can to ensure a resolution that would bring the Lady Mary great happiness."

Chapuys nodded.

"He also sends his regards to you, Your Majesty," he said with a smile. "He is pleased to see such a virtuous and amiable queen, the peacemaker who helped reconcile the king to his eldest daughter and I have heard many Englishmen say even now you have tried to persuade His Majesty to restore the princess to the succession."

"I can only say that I will continue to show favor to the princess in whatever way I can," Jane smiled.

Chapuys frowned.

"However it appears the king prefers to continue to shower affection upon the concubine's little bastards," he growled softly.

"The king is convinced that Lady Elizabeth and her brothers are legitimate," Jane said simply.

"Even if he has to drag his trueborn daughter's name through the mud in order to do so," Elizabeth Seymour grumbled. "I can't understand how the poor princess can abide by this madness."

"If the late Lady Anne had not given the king his sons, things would be very different now," Jane admitted. "But there is little we can do to change that now."

...

Though the children were still very young, it was clear to all that little Harry was the spitting image of his father while his brother's resemblance to their mother became even more pronounced.

The boys' personalities were also beginning to make themselves known to all.

Just like his father and namesake, little Harry was very spirited and had a habit of being somewhat demanding, often becoming cross for a short time if said demands were not met. Though he could always be reminded that such behavior was unbecoming in a prince when Lady Bryan chided him for it and would immediately apologize.

Then there was Geoffrey, who while somewhat reserved, also had a fondness for attention, probably due to him being the second most important person in the household he shared with his brother.

Harry never lorded his status as the heir over Geoffrey's head. He loved his brother and knew that it had been a mere twist of fate that it had been he, not Geoffrey, who had been born first when it very easily could have gone that way.

He had heard some people say Geoffrey was not as important as he was because he was the Prince of Wales and Geoffrey was only the Duke of York. He had been ready to give the courtiers a right telling off for daring to say such hurtful things about his brother. After all, Geoffrey was their prince too!

Geoffrey however had stated that the murmurings that he, only a second son, would not amount to much only made the younger prince that much more determined to prove them all wrong.

Their elder sister Elizabeth had come to visit them at the residence they shared in Windsor from her own establishment at Hatfield, and it was during these visits that the boys would learn a little about their Mama.

According to Elizabeth, their mother had been a beautiful and sweet woman with dark hair like Geoffrey's and piercing eyes that both Elizabeth and Geoffrey had inherited whereas Harry took more after their father the king. Mama had also grown up in the French king's court with their Aunt Mary before she married their Papa. But even after she became queen, she spoke French and enjoyed French things, both traits she had passed onto her daughter.

"Papa's a Tudor and the Tudor colors are green and white," Harry said once. "What were Mama's colors, Lizbeth?"

Elizabeth smiled at the mention of the nickname her brothers had chosen for her. When they were young and had tried to say her full name, it had come out sounding like 'Lizbeth'. She didn't mind though, it made her feel closer to them especially when she hardly got to see them due to their home being so far from Hatfield.

"Mama's colors were purple and blue," she explained. "And her motto was 'The Most Happy'."

The twins were always enraptured whenever they heard stories of the mother who had died when they were still little babes. But no one would tell them what had happened to her and Lizbeth would always tell them it was not something they needed to know.

Harry was especially indignant. He was the Prince of Wales and future king of England, he had every right to know what had happened to the Mama he loved and missed so much yet had never even met.

Luckily, Elizabeth managed to diffuse the situation by telling her brothers the real reason she had come; their Papa had said they were to have a baby brother soon and he wanted them all to be there when their new brother was born.

Both boys were excited at the idea of going back to their father's court now that they were much older. They would also be able to see their other sisters, Princess Margery and Lady Mary.

Mary Tudor was their oldest sister, even older than Lizbeth, but because she was not Mama's daughter she wasn't a princess. Margery wasn't Mama's daughter either but she was a princess. The matter had confused the twins until their sister informed them that when Mama died, Papa had married another lady, Margery's mother Queen Jane.

The twins rarely ever saw them, but they were looking forward to seeing Margery, they liked her almost as much as they liked Lizbeth.  
...

Henry had planned this.

Jane fought back an unhappy frown as she noted that all of the royal family were dressed in purple.

Henry wore a splendid suit of dark purple velvet and a necklace of thick, golden medallions around his neck while Jane herself had chosen a simple gown in soft lavender silk and a white damask petticoat with her blonde hair pulled back and held with a jeweled comb and a simple gold necklace set with amethysts, along with a few pieces from the collection of the queen's jewels, the latter at Henry's insistence.

The twins, who had just arrived wore small suits nearly identical to their father's, further highlighting little Harry's resemblance to the king, not that anyone could really say much on that matter without enraging Henry.

The only one who was not wearing the exclusive color was Lady Mary, who stood off to the side of the dais instead of on it like the rest of her family. The dress she wore of silver satin with a square neckline decorated with seed pearls was lovely, but Jane could see the sadness and longing in the girl's eyes, especially as her gaze landed on Margery and then Elizabeth.

Jane wondered if Mary now resented her youngest half-sister because while both were legitimate princesses by rights, Margery was the only one acknowledged.

Jane had never wanted her stepdaughter to resent her, but what could she do?

...

He father had planned this.

Mary stood in her place, off to the side of the dais, watching as her father sat with Harry on his lap while Geoffrey sat in one of the small thrones next to Henry's while Elizabeth and Margery sat in theirs off to the side of Jane's throne.

Everyone in the royal family were wearing purple, another privilege that Mary had now been denied.

The one-time princess wondered how long her father would continue to degrade and humiliate her, even after she had already submitted to him. She had signed the Oath, what more did he want from her that she hadn't already given him?

...

...

Alright, I hope everyone enjoyed the brand new chapter here. And the next chapter will be out on Monday, January 7th. Until then, everyone.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Alright, Inknow thi is super late. Well there goes one New Year's resolution broken. Nevertheless thank you to princessElizabethtudor, OlicityxSkyeWard, gabbygrl247, Guest, Guest, Robin4, suns and stars, Mari Wollsch, tricorvus, Roberta Lozano, Guest, guest, and Lady Eleanor of Slytherin for all the reviews on the previous chapter and I do hope that you all enjoy this new one. And I hope it makes up for the lateness, I combined what would have been the next chapter in here. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _October 12, 1540_**

Jane would be lying if she were to say she wasn't disappointed when she saw her son.

The infant had been cleaned and swaddled before being given to her.

Unlike his elder half-brothers, Edward looked nearly nothing like his father. He had Jane's pale blue eyes, milky complexion, and a fringe of pale blond hair. He was a Seymour through and through.

But at the same time, her disappointment was overshadowed by her joy; she had a son! Perhaps she could employ a new sense of influence on Henry and persuade him to look more kindly upon Lady Mary.

...

Henry was ecstatic; the royal nursery now yielded a third prince. Though Edward was not nearly as robust as his brothers had been at their birth, he was sure to get stronger in time. In the mean time, the king had been working on marital arrangements for his children, sans Princess Elizabeth who had already been promised to the Duke of Angouleme, and for the moment Princess Margery, whom he had decided to betroth to Emperor Charles's son, Prince Philip. A princess for both of the other most powerful monarchs in Europe and therefore a better chance at maintaining cordial relationships and a balance as a result. Though the peace never lasted forever, it still helped to bring about reconciliation after all the bad blood was done away with.

Harry, the eldest and therefore the heir, was of course the one whom most monarchs would attempt to pledge their daughters or granddaughters or even nieces to. Francis didn't have any girls at the moment, at least none within Harry's age range, but the Emperor had proposed his daughter, the Infanta Juana.

As far as royal matches went, it was quite ideal. But the most satisfying part of the proposal, to Henry at least, had been the fact that it had been the Emperor who initiated it, not Henry. If Henry had been the one to initiate the betrothal, the Emperor could have publicly refused, claiming he could not wed his beloved daughter to a mere bastard. But for the last five years, the man who had once called Henry 'uncle' had not dared slander his children by Anne, nor did he try any longer to intercede on behalf of the Lady Mary, despite prompts from Ambassador Chapuys, if the letters Henry had had intercepted were to be believed.

"Your Majesty."

Henry bit back a smirk as Ambassador Chapuys bowed before him.

"Excellency," he greeted in return, slightly including his head. "Have you news of the Emperor's proposal to pledge our son to his daughter?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Spaniard replied with barely concealed regret and reluctance, which of course only made Henry relish the moment more. "He hopes that with this new pledge, a new alliance may follow suit and England and Spain may once again enjoy close and loving relations."

"Good," Henry looked pleased. "Tell him we are in agreement on this matter and I look forward to the day he may meet England's dear **PRINCE."**

Chapuys felt his heart sink as a cold smirk climbed the king's lips. This and the way the monarch's eyebrows were raised in mock surprise could not have made the message clearer; he had overheard Chapuys's conversation with Queen Jane and her sisters. The stress on the so-called prince's title sealed his suspicions.

Trying to conceal his discomfort, the man bowed hastily.

"You may go, Chapuys," Henry stated indifferently as he waved his hand dismissively, watching as the man bowed once more and backed slowly out of the room.

...

Jane sighed quietly as she watched Elizabeth and Margery play.

She tried to remind herself that Elizabeth was innocent of her mother's offenses, but it still did little to quell the feeling Jane had every time she looked upon the girl whom no one would dispute was a Tudor. From her red-gold curls to her already fiery temper, Henry often said Elizabeth was a Tudor down to her bones. He had never said such a thing about Margery.

Margery's features were more like her mother's. But her father seemed to favor her eyes most, declaring them as blue as the sky on a clear day.

Henry was never cruel to Margery, but Jane knew he had been disappointed in her from the moment she was born. She was not a boy nor did she show the vigor for education that Elizabeth, and even Mary at one time, did. But she didn't fare too badly at sewing, when she could be persuaded to actually do it. The youngest princess seemed more content to run about and play than do anything indoors. And of course her elder half-sister was her favorite playmate, something Jane's sisters could not understand in the least.

A part of Jane was pleased that both Mary and Elizabeth loved their half-sister, but she also knew that when it came to royal marriages, as the eldest 'legitimate' daughter, Elizabeth would always be considered more important than Margery.

This also was true of the princes. Edward would always be seen as one of the most important children in all of England due to his status as the king's legitimate son. He would also take precedence over not only Margery, but Elizabeth as well by virtue of his sex.

But he was the third born, so while he would always enjoy the title of Prince of England, unlike Harry or even Geoffrey, he would not be as important. He would never wear his father's crown or rule his country, and he would always be behind his brothers in all things, perhaps even his father's affections.

How could things be so wonderful and so horrible at the same time? Jane had her children and she did love her husband, but she felt that even after her death, Anne still clung to the king like a nettle.

Every year since the false queen's death, Henry would visit the tomb he had had built for Anne, and if the rumors were to be believed where he himself had chosen to be buried when his life ended, and leave two roses, one red and one white.

Even his twin sons had at least developed enough understanding to know that while their father was married to Jane, she was not their mother.

According to her sister Elizabeth, both princes had been told by their mother's family the Boleyns, who still held the most authority at court aside from the king himself, of their mother and how she and their father had been all of Europe's star-crossed lovers and that they were living embodiments of that love.

"The people would be singing a very different song had the whore only had her daughter," Dorothy had remarked once.

Jane knew her sisters hated the departed Anne and if she were being honest with herself, she was none too fond of her either. But she was dead and could do nothing now. So why did Jane feel so resentful still?

...

A part of Mary fought to keep her unhappiness masked as she watched Elizabeth play with Margery. Her father had visited them earlier but scarcely spared her a glance. Even after she had signed the oath, he still held her at arm's length. What did she have to do for him to love her again?

This was all the fault of Anne! If she hadn't been so insistent on being queen, Katherine would have remained in her rightful place on earth until she had died. If Katherine had passed and Henry wished to marry Anne, Mary would not have been thrilled but at least then she could accept that her father was merely doing his duty as king. But the so-called marriage had been performed during Katherine's lifetime. But Henry had not cared, and it had been Anne that had encouraged the affair, which in itself had led to heresy entering England.

Even now thinking of the woman who had usurped her mother of her place beside her husband as well as her title of queen still caused Mary pain. Especially now.

Elizabeth had been sent a gift by their father; a small locket bearing a portrait of her mother. Mary had also heard that the twins had both received one as well.

This only increased her resentment. Her father had given her no such luxury. Her only remembrances of her own mother were the few pieces of jewelry from the Royal House of Spain, namely a few headpieces, and a few old furs that Katherine had bequeathed to her. But even wearing something that had once adorned her mother's person was not the same as being able to look at her mother's likeness so that she would forever remember the woman she had so loved, respected, and admired.

Even the twins would know what Anne had looked like and they had been mere infants who had never truly known her. Yet they would both go through life, being able to recall their mother's face. While Mary would only have her trinkets and memories.

Occasionally, when she took walks in some parts of the palace, Mary had seen a few parts of the walls or ceiling where her parent's initials were intertwined with one another. These H&Ks were few and far between as her father had tried his best to erase any signs that her parents had once been a loving couple devoted to one another. They had been chiseled away or painted over to make way for the H&As that came when he had declared Anne as his wife. A few of those had actually remained even when Henry had married Jane.  
Mary had never breathed a word of the initials lest they be done away with as well. Once she had even found a place that bore a painting of the Tudor rose and her mother's personal emblem the pomegranate, probably the last one. And as much as she wished others could see and know that it must be a sign that Henry was wrong to forsake Katherine, Mary couldn't let it be destroyed, it was one of the few things she still could take comfort in, knowing that in spite of her father and Anne's best efforts, there were still signs of the woman who had been the true queen.

If keeping it secret was the only way to protect it, then for the time being that was what she would do.

A moment later, the once princess was pulled from her thoughts as her half-brothers entered the room, those lockers about their necks.

Harry hugged Elizabeth before turning to Margery and hugging her as well, followed by Geoffrey.

Despite them being his heirs and him being super protective of them, Henry had actually allowed his sons to spend a fair amount of time at court. But Mary had hardly seen them, for they seemed to spend more time with Elizabeth than anyone.

She noticed Jane smiling as the twins bowed as they greeted her, but like previous times they had visited, the smile failed to reach the queen's eyes.

For all of her dislike of Anne, Mary still refrained from allowing her feelings toward the woman color her feelings toward the boys. But it was clear to her that Jane would not do the same.

Nevertheless, the twins made their way to Mary and both greeted her with a slight bow and Harry actually kissed her cheek, an action performed by Geoffrey as well.

"How are you, sister?" Geoffrey asked her, a sincere smile on his face.

It actually made Mary feel better that Geoffrey had called her sister rather than her still-hated title of Lady.

"I am well, little brother," she replied, deliberately omitting the boy's supposed title of prince. After all, no one could contest her calling him her brother, for he was indeed her father's son. "Have the pair of you seen our new brother?"

Both boys nodded.

"Papa says he is smaller than we were when we were born," Harry said.

Mary noticed Jane flinch ever so slightly at this, but neither Harry nor Geoffrey seemed to.

She wondered if her stepmother hated referring to the twins as princes as well, but knew better than to ask. It would do neither of them any good.

...

Henry couldn't believe how fortunate he was.

Not even ten years ago, he had believed himself to be married to Katherine and their supposed union had yielded only a daughter. He had had a bastard son, but the poor boy had passed before his fifth birthday.

And yet now, here he was blessed with three beautiful daughters, two of whom were his precious princesses, and not only one but three sons.

A superstitious part of him had worried for little Harry due to his previous sons that bore his name both dying young. But little Harry, along with his twin Geoffry both seemed to become more robust by the day.

Edward was only an infant but already Henry found himself very concerned for his health. Hopefully the child would become stronger as he grew older.

...

...

So, I do hope everyone enjoyed that and I do apologize once more for the delay. And I promise the brand new chapter will be out on Monday, January 21st. Until then, everyone.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: As promised, here is the new chapter. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, Guest, OlicityxSkyeWard, suns and stars, the dark euphie, jamestudor, Frog1, BellalunaMcKenzie, QueenAnneTudor, and tricorvus for the review on the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy this new one.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 _ **January 17th, 1541**_

Hatfield was a little smaller than she remembered.

As Elizabeth reached her younger brothers' residence, she looked around and tried to recall her own time there. She had vague memories of her mother walking and playing with her in the gardens, a part of her could even almost hear her mother's laughter, which her father had once likened to music.

The young princess absently clutched at the locket she still wore about her neck. Her father had commissioned the portrait within of her mother, along with two others for the 1twins. It wasn't the same as having her mother, but it certainly helped.

Of course, the most helpful of all had been her Uncle George and Aunt Mary's stories of Anne when she was a girl, with George more than once remarking that Elizabeth was very much like her when she was young. Mary had been the eldest, but Anne it seemed had been the most clever.

Elizabeth more often than not recounted these stories to her brothers.

The boys no longer blamed themselves for their mother's death, which was good as it had not even been their fault...

At eight years old, Elizabeth was a bit more aware of the stories and rumors surrounding her mother and father's relationship. She had heard whispers of the affairs her father had indulged in during the time her mother was carrying her and then later the boys. The latter had been none other than his current wife, Jane.

The fair-haired princess did not want to hate her stepmother, but she resented her, and her father as well, for hurting her mother the way that they did. She didn't want to think about the time that her younger brothers had nearly been lost.

At the same time, she did love little Edward and Margery.

Though Margery was not the scholar that Elizabeth was, the latter still proved to be a wonderful companion. Margery displayed not only a talent for sewing, of which Elizabeth herself was not overly fond, she also had recently proved to be a capable musician, a development welcomed by her elder sister.

Margery had not accompanied her today, though the younger princess had wanted to visit the twins, having not seen them since Christmas. But for some reason, her mother had forbidden it, though she wouldn't say why.

...

Mary sat next to the fireplace of the outer chamber of Jane's apartments, Margery sitting near her.

"Mary, your stitches are so much smaller than mine," Margery sighed, her tone laced with good-natured envy. "Yours are so fine and nearly impossible to see."

"I've just had more practice," Mary said with a smile as she placed a hand on her small sister's shoulder. "You're doing quite well, and you'll only improve as you practice it more."

Margery looked pleased at this as she picked her needle up once more and began sliding it through the fabric. She had only been at work for a few minutes when her face fell.

"I wish Mama had allowed me to go with Elizabeth to visit Hatfield," she sighed. "I miss Harry and Geoffrey. We write often, but it's not the same."

Mary nodded. She understood the feeling of wanting a letter just to have some means of communication with someone you loved, all the while knowing that it provided little comfort when your heart's desire was to physically see that person.

But unlike Mary, who had been denied both of these things in her mother's final days, Margery at least had been afforded the luxury of being able to write.

Though if Mary were being honest, she would not have objected to being able to spend even a little time with her younger brothers.

She had not wanted to love the boys who forever ended any chance of her father restoring her as a princess, but just like with Elizabeth, she found that she adored the twins and became very protective of them as a result. She even felt less like an elder half-sister and more like almost a mother to the boys.

Little Edward gurgled from the cradle where he would stay until his household at Windsor had been established.

Harry would soon be at an age to have a household established at Ludlow, the official residence of the heir to the throne. Meanwhile Geoffrey would either stay at Hatfield or go to one of the other properties of the crown.

If that were the case, little Edward would either be left at Windsor, or like Geoffrey, sent somewhere else as well.

Whatever the case, while Mary still somewhat resented her downgraded status, she was thankful that little Edward would never know the pain she had felt, and thanks to his survival this far, neither would Margery.

...

Jane sighed as she cradled her little son in her arms.

He still showed no obvious resemblance to his mother, with his light hair, and eyes so pale they were liable to stay that way.

He also seemed to become cold very easily and had to be kept wrapped up lest he catch a chill.

The third wife of Henry tried not to feel bitter about her son's delicate condition, but it was especially difficult when younger Harry and Geoffrey continued to flourish. The boys caught a small but of illness from time to time, but never for long.

Her daughter absolutely adored the twins and often spent the entirety of their visits with them, at least as much as she could anyway.

Jane's sisters had constantly warned her of keeping her children away from the 'Boleyn Bastards' as they now referred to them in private. Even her elder brother, and her son's namesake, Edward, had warned her that any favor or gain for the twins could be her son and daughter's loss. And of course she did not want that.

But what could she do?

"Majesty," Lady Rochford curstied as she came to Jane's side.

"What is it, Lady Rochford?" Jane asked with a disgruntled sigh, annoyed at her time with her infant son being interrupted.

"Lady Misseldon is here," Lady Rochford answered with a strained smile.

Jane's pale eyes darkened slightly. She did not want to have to speak to the woman who had seduced her husband while she carried his children. How dare she presume to have the right? Well, now that Jane had a son Henry was able to begrudge her nothing. So when she had requested Lady Misseldon's dismissal, he had been surprised but nonetheless indulged his dear wife and yielded to her wishes.

A part of her couldn't help but think of Lady Misseldon's similarities to another woman. The dark hair, the blue eyes, the less than conventional way of conducting herself...

That was it! That was why Henry had wanted her and pursued her; Ursula Misseldon was a reminder of Anne Boleyn! Why hadn't Jane noticed it before?

As much as the realization stung, Jane stil felt a twinge of satisfaction. She had voiced her displeasure, and clearly Henry had said Ursula had to go.

"Send her in," Jane sniffed slightly, still holding her son.

Moments later, the dark-haired vision arrived, clothed in a gown of peach-colored satin and a white petticoat.

Ever since her coronation, Jane had forbidden the gaudy, frivolous French fashions that Anne had fancied in favor of a more traditional, wholesome English look; traditional hoods and coifs and muted colors with a few simple embellishments here and there.

"Your Majesty," Lady Misseldon curtsied. "His Majesty the king wishes for me to retire from your household, with Your Majesty's blessing of course."

"Very well, then you have it," Jane answered in a haughty tone. "Shall we expect you to remain at court?"

"Whenever permitted, my lady," Ursula answered with a hint of a smile, not a nervous or contrite smile, but an expression of a woman pleased with herself. "His Majesty has found a husband for me, as my previous betrothal was broken not long ago."

"Yes, as I recall it, Sir Tavistock was displeased when he learned that his wife to be would not be coming to the marital bed a virtuous maiden," Elizabeth Seymour sneered.

Jane saw that this earned no reaction from Ursula. The woman did not flinch or look hurt, nor was there any sign of shame or remorse in her expression nor her eyes.

"I believe His Majesty believed I would be more fortunate with another man rather than Tavistock," she replied coolly. "But I shan't continue to intrude, Your Majesty. You have given your blessing, so if you permit me, I shall be on my way."

"You may go," Jane waved at the woman dismissively.

It was only when the words were hardly spoken that Ursula had curtsied and began to back out of the room. Jane suspected, judging from the woman's attitude, had she not been aware of the consequences she might have left sooner.

Nevertheless, it greatly put Jane's mind and heart at ease that her husband's mistress was now gone.

...

"This is madness!" Ursula hissed softly as a man emerged from behind one of the tapestries on the wall and firmly pressed his frame against hers and his lips upon his cheek and then her lips.

"I like madness," came the reply. "And speaking of madness, how did our dear queen respond to your 'sudden' dismissal?"

Ursula smiled at the man who would soon be her husband.

"I do believe she was rather displeased. Her sister certainly knew enough of Tavistock to know he broke our pledge due to my...'indiscretions' with His Majesty."

The man behind the tapestry snickered as he wrapped an arm around Ursula's waist, not caring in the slightest if someone should happen upon the pair. After all, they were to be married anyway, why not at least begin getting to know one another a little better before completely sealing the pledge?

"The king does as the king wishes," he said. "And he set his sights on you. Why do you think I withdrew my attentions when he showed an interest?"

Ursula smirked.

"My assumption was that you tired of pursuing a conquest you could never hope to reach. After all, I never gave you an answer before."

"Well, I have it now, do I not?" The man's gloves hand rested on Ursula's fair cheek as he pressed his lips to hers.

"You had it the night you declared yourself the Black Pope," Ursula replied. "Now tell me, Francis...what is George's plan?"

...

...

I hope you all enjoyed this new little chapter. And the next one will be out on Monday, January 28th. Until then, everyone.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: As promised, here is the new chapter. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, QueenAnneTudor, suns and stars, jamestudor, gabbygrl247, Guest, the dark euphie, Princess of the Dark Kingdom, fleur-de-lis-royal, Robin 4, tricorvus, yoko97, hateme101, and guest for all of the reviews on the previous chapter, as well as an additonal thanks to Robin4 on the additional reviewon chapter 12 and elizabethgolden for the review on chapter 11. I hope you all enjoy this brand new chapter, which funnily enough is the longest chapter yet. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _May 19th, 1543_**

Elizabeth loved being at court, though she was very young. Though her stepmother was none too fond of pageantry or masques, her father was quite the opposite. Especially whenever the time of her younger twin brothers' birthday came about. Even the days leading up to it were filled with merrymaking.

But today, on the boys' actual birthday, the celebrations were truly magnificent. After all, it commemorated the day that not one, but two princes were born, securing the Tudor dynasty and signaling to all of Europe that King Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn had been blessed.

At ten years old, Elizabeth now knew why it had been so imperative that her mother give her royal father a son; the Tudors had been in power for but two generations, and her father did not want England to be torn apart by another civil war, like the one his own father had ended when he married Elizabeth of York, one of Elizabeth's own namesakes. With Harry and Geoffrey, no one had cause to fear any longer.

Harry had been born first, so he was the heir and big brother. But it pleased Elizabeth and she knew it pleased their father that Harry never lorded his status as heir over Geoffrey. And the younger twin seemed perfectly content in his position as the second son, never once seeming to resent his brother for being the future king.

Having been on the receiving end of such resentment before the twins were born from the Lady Mary, Elizabeth was glad to see that the two brothers whom she loved so were close.

Elizabeth herself wanted to be close to her brother and sister by Jane as she had been with Mary and with the twins. Margery herself tried to spend time with her elder half-sister, but her mother Jane always seemed to have some excuse as to why she could not. It had been this way for several years now, and now Elizabeth knew why.

The young red-haired princess was the daughter of Anne Boleyn, the woman Jane blamed for Henry leaving Mary's mother Katherine of Aragon. But it was more than that, she was jealous that Anne had given Henry his two cherished sons and Jane had given him Edward. Edward was a sweet boy and Elizabeth, as well as the others, loved him, but she had once overheard Henry telling his friend the Duke of Suffolk that he worried constantly as Edward did not enjoy the same robust health that his brothers did.

Did Jane blame Harry and Geoffrey? If so, she was a fool. It was not their fault. Or perhaps she resented that Edward, as the third son, was regarded with less importance.

Elizabeth sighed. Now was not the time for such things. Today was a time for celebration and to see her brothers, whom she had not seen since Easter. She knew they missed her as she had missed them and so did not want to dwell on thoughts that would only dampen the spirits of all involved.

...

Whenever the twins visited court, there was always a great deal of fanfare and excitement in the air.

Henry adored his 'little miracles' as he referred to them, and even in the days leading up to their arrival, it was noted that the king seemed to have an almost boyish sense to him.

"Your Majesty," came the voices of the twin princes as they moved forward to receive their father's blessing.

"My sons," he greeted as Harry and Geoffrey stood before him, both bowing carefully just like Lady Bryan had taught them. "You are most welcome here at court."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the pair spoke once more in unison, much to their father's delight.

They could see a tense smile on their stepmother's face as they were brought to her.

"Say hello to the queen," Henry whispered to them.

"Your Majesty," they once again spoke as one and bowed albeit with the bow a bit more shallow than the one they had given the king.

"Your Highnesses," Jane nodded her head stiffly. "It is a pleasure to see you back at court."

With that, Henry's booming laughter filled the Great Hall as he swept little Harry and Geoffrey onto his lap and kissed each boy's head, earning a delighted giggle from both.

As Jane watched the display, she was a bit put off by Henry's open display of affection. Of course he had to show the entire court his so-called heirs. She couldn't understand why he had never showed such affection to Edward. He showed the boy care, but never like the twins. What made them any more special than he?

...

Edward always knew he was different from his older brothers.

Whenever their father received visits from the boys, he would greet Harry and Geoffrey by sweeping them simultaneously into his arms. But for Edward he would greet with a fond pat of the shoulder or ruffle his hair and a kiss.

His governess, a Mistress Joan Luttrell, had informed him when he went to court for the first time with his family, he would no longer be the most important person in the room. But little Edward, who had always been the most important at Windsor, had not realized this until he arrived at Whitehall.

There, the procession was rigid and without compromise. Of course his father was the most important, but of the children his elder brother Harry was, as the Prince of Wales and future king. He was then followed by Geoffrey, the Duke of York, then Edward himself, who had not yet received a title from his father aside from prince. Next came Princess Elizabeth, future Duchess of Angouleme, and then Edward's sister Princess Margery. Both were older than he, but came after him because they were girls.  
The one who was usually last was his oldest sister, Lady Mary.

She was his father's daughter, but she was not the daughter of Edward's mother, nor that of Queen Anne, Elizabeth, Harry, and Geoffrey's mother who had died before Edward was born. He knew that much, but the young prince didn't know why she couldn't be a princess too if her father was a king.

The blond prince now felt a small surge of envy as he saw Harry and Geoffrey perched on their father's knees, giggling as the king lavished affection on the pair of them. Why did Papa not do that with him? Didn't he love him too?

"Edward?"

He looked up to see none other than Lady Mary looking down at him, her eyes filled with concern.

"It's good to see you, sister," Edward greeted her with a smile, which she returned.

"And you as well, my sweet little brother," she said, taking his hand in hers. "I hope you've been well."

Edward nodded, but this did little to quell Mary's fears.

...

It angered Ambassador Chapuys more than words could ever express to have kneel to the Boleyn whore's bastards and show them the deference that was only due to true royal children like the Princesses Mary and Margery and Prince Edward. But his master the emperor had given him specific instructions to extend the proper courtesies lest King Henry take exception and refuse to further their alliance, for which the ground work had already been laid.

"Ambassador, may I present my eldest, the Prince of Wales and my brother Emperor Charles's future son, the Prince Henry," the king declared magnanimously as the boy acknowledged Chapuys.

The Spaniard bit back a snort of disgust. Here sat a boy who truly believed himself to be a gift from above, as though Chapuys should be honored to be in his presence.

"Your Highness," he greeted, fighting the urge to vomit. "My master sends his regards to you, and to the Duke of York. May you both continue to enjoy long life, health, and prosperity."

"The emperor is too kind," Prince Harry replied with grave sincerity. "I thank him on behalf of my brother and I, and wish him good health and prosperity as well. I also offer my regards to my betrothed, the Infanta Juana."

Eustace could not help but stare at the weight of the child's words. Here sat a child of seven years and yet he spoke with the eloquence of an adult. It should not have surprised him due to the child being raised in a royal household, but it did so nonetheless.

Prince Geoffrey sat beside his brother, regarding the ambassador silently. Chapuys tried to ignore the boy's stare, but it was so much like hers...like Anne's...

Perhaps it was the boy's eyes, such a piercing blue, and the coldness in them. Almost as though he did not trust Chapuys.

...

Henry knew his sons were clever for their age, but it had still been quite a surprise when he learned of the colors the boys had chosen.

Though it would still be some time before they were officially separated so that Harry could leave for Ludlow and be officially vested with the duties of the Prince of Wales, Henry had sent word that the young princes should each have their own livery instead of continuing to use their father's.

Harry had chosen purple and gold, gold since he was the eldest prince and future king, and purple both for the color of royalty and, Harry said, because it was one of his mother's colors.

Geoffrey had opted for blue and silver, also for his mother as well as symbolizing his status as the younger prince.

Henry had been shocked, but at the same time it touched him to know that the boys had been told of their mother.

"Lizbeth says Mama's colors were blue and purple," Harry told him. "So we wanted to honor her. And you. Mama's motto was 'The Most Happy' because you made her happy."

Henry pressed his lips to the boy's forehead for what must have been the thousandth time. He did not care, nor did the princes ever protest. Henry would never cease to be grateful to God, and grateful to his beloved Anne for the sons they had given them.

Of course, he chose to forget the fact that Anne had most certainly not been happy in any way in her last days. Yes, she was certainly happy for her sons, but her heart had been broken to know the man she loved did not love her anymore, he had given his heart to another.

But Henry did not wish to think of this. What was done could not be undone.

...

...

I hope you all enjoyed this new little chapter. And the next one will be out on Friday, February 1st. Until then, everyone.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Albeit a bit late, here is the new chapter. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, Lady Eleanor of Slytherin, Guest, the dark euphie, Guest, hateme101, Lizairy Cullen, gabbygrl247, tricorvus, QueenAnneTudor, Robin4, Guest, Audriel, whiteprincess, jamestudor, annexfrancis, RoseInTheWinter, camelot, Guest, and Guest for allthe reviews on the new chapter. I hope you all enjoy this new update.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _May 21st, 1543_**

George Boleyn had learned to take on a great deal of more responsibility after his father's death.

Thomas Boleyn had left behind a number of estates and titles for his son, which the middle Boleyn child intended to use in the best way he could.

His eldest sister Mary was no longer in disgrace, and had even made her peace with Thomas before his passing, as much as one could expect anyway as he still resented her choice of husband.

Nevertheless, George had seen to it that his sister, her husband and their children were well provided for. Though he knew William was a good man who loved Mary, and she him, he also knew the man regretted his wife's loss of status as it made things hard not only for her, but their children. Her eldest daughter Catherine had long since married and become a mother.

Henry Carey, Mary's son by her first husband, though some whispered behind closed doors that the boy was actually the king's son from his short-lived tryst with Mary, had been Anne's ward during his formative years, but now was under the patronage of his uncle. The boy was still studying at university, so for the moment his situation was secure as well. So, George focused his efforts more on his younger niece and nephew by Mary.

He had seen to securing a place for little Edward as a companion to his royal cousins. He would live at Hatfield with the twins, where he would receive a stellar education which, along with the prestige of being the cousin to the future king of England, could help him carve out a path for himself in the world when he reached maturity. And little Annie Stafford had also become a companion to her cousin Princess Elizabeth, being only three years the latter's junior.

Mary was grateful to her brother George for all that he had done to help her family. She could tell that William regretted her decline in status thanks to their marriage, but Mary never let him feel guilty for it. She loved him, and that was all that mattered. But George's efforts were still greatly appreciated, particularly as it had offered Edward and Annie not only a secure future, but also a chance to spend time with their family.

...

"Lizbeth."

Elizabeth looked up from the book she had been reading to see her brother Geoffrey peering in around the chamber door.

"Geoffrey," she smiled wryly. "Does Lady Bryan know you're here?"

In the last few days of their visit to court, Elizabeth had learned that the younger twin was more possessed of a talent for mischief than his brother and more than once wandered from his governess's ever watchful eye.

"Perhaps," Geoffrey answered vaguely. "I wanted to see you, and ask you something."

Elizabeth set aside her book and allowed her younger brother to sit beside her on her bed. As he did so, their cousin Annie smiled at him as she looked up from her embroidery.

"What is it you wish to ask?" Elizabeth queried.

"Lizbeth, what is a bastard?" Geoffrey asked.

A question with such childish innocence could not have yielded a more jarring reaction.

Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly as Madge Shelton gasped and nearly dropped the linens she had been carrying. Little Annie, completely oblivious to the weight of the situation merely looked puzzled.

"Geoffrey," the boy immediately noticed his sister's gentle tone become harder and colder. "Where did you hear that word?"

"Our lady stepmother was telling Margery why our eldest sister is called Lady Mary instead of Princess Mary," the Duke of York answered. "She said Mary is called that because Papa wasn't married to her mother."

Elizabeth nodded. She herself was not entirely versed in her father's Great Matter, but she had heard enough to know that Mary's mother had not truly been their father's wife. Yet, even after her mother and father married, a number of people still slandered her as the king's mistress, and their children illegitimate.

"He believed he was married to her, but one day he learned he was not and he set Mary's mother Katherine aside," she explained. "He married Mama and then the three of us were born."

That was not the full story, but it was all Geoffrey needed to know for now.

"But that doesn't explain why Mary was called a bastard," the little prince continued.

"Geoffrey, that is something that people call an unfortunate person whose parents are not married," Elizabeth sighed, stroking her brother's hair, colored so dark like their mother's but straight rather than curled.

"Like Mary's mother and Papa?"

"Yes."

Geoffrey looked confused.

"But we're not bastards, so why does the queen refer to us that way?"

This angered Elizabeth. She had always known Jane had some reservations when it came to the elder princess and her brothers, but she never could have imagined it was this bad. How dare that woman slander not only her, but her brothers, the children who had nearly been lost when that woman had attempted to seduce the king.

At ten years old, Elizabeth had become well acquainted with the facts surrounding her mother's death shortly after her brothers' birth. She owed her knowledge to her Uncle George and of course her mother's former lady, Nan Saville. Aunt Mary had told her about her mother, but had been sent away from court during the time of Jane Seymour.

She knew Jane had supported the Dowager Princess and had sought to restore Mary to the succession. But she had stopped trying to intercede on Mary's behalf ever since the birth of her son Edward. The hypocrisy that surrounded the woman made the future Duchess of Angouleme's blood boil.

"Perhaps you should ask our father the king," Elizabeth suggested as she wrapped her arms around her brother. She knew that Henry would be angry at the mention of the awful insult, but not at one of his precious sons. And it was only right that this be brought to his attention, especially by the one who had heard it spoken. "What the queen said is a lie and it is a terribly wicked thing to tell lies. That's what Lady Bryan always told me."

Geoffrey looked nervous. Though his father was always so jovial and affectionate to him, the idea of telling him that someone had said something so wicked and untrue was not a pleasant one. What if his father got angry?

"My sweet brother," his fears were put slightly at ease as his sister kissed his head and held him close to her, as if reading his mind. "Papa will not blame you. He knows you would only say this if it were true. You are not the one at fault here. She is."

Geoffrey nestled closer to Elizabeth, imagining it was his lost mother holding him. He clutched the locket about his neck as he visualized Anne's long black hair tickling his little face, her piercing blue eyes staring down at him with adoration as her graceful hands rubbed his back and stroked his hair. How he wished she had lived!

"I miss Mama," he whispered softly, his voice quivering.

Elizabeth smiled gently, but the boy could see sadness in her eyes.

"I miss her as well," she spoke just as quietly. "Just remember, she loved you so much. You and Harry."

"And you," Geoffrey pointed out.

"And me," Elizabeth nodded, remembering how her mother had referred to her as her own heart, even after the birth of the twins, even if she was not a boy.

...

Geoffrey had asked to speak with him, for once not accompanied by Harry. Despite having a few other matters of pressing importance, Henry could not refuse seeing his young son, particularly as they not only saw each other rarely, but his groom had stated that the child had looked quite upset. Wondering what could possibly be the matter, Henry had obliged to see the boy.

As he pulled the small prince up onto his lap, as he had done so many times before, little Geoffrey snuggled close to him, almost desperately.

"What's troubling you, my sweet boy?" Henry asked, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and smiling encouragingly. "Tell Papa."

"Papa..." Geoffrey looked incredibly uneasy as he began wringing his hands. "What's a bastard?"

A dark look immediately crossed the king's face and his son swallowed hard, fearing he had angered his father.

"Where did you hear that?" Henry demanded, but his expression softened when he saw the terror in his son's eyes. ""I...I heard the queen say it when she was speaking to Ambassador Chapuys..." Geoffrey answered. "I shouldn't have been listening in, but I-"

"It's alright, my precious boy," Henry reassured, stroking the prince's hair gently, his fatherly demeanor returning. "You're not at fault here."

"I don't want to be a bastard," Geoffrey had no intention of leaving the matter unsettled. Much like both of his parents, the young Duke of York was possessed of great stubbornness.

"You won't be," Henry stated, more firmly than he intended, and smiled so as to ease his son's distress. "You can never be a bastard. You, Harry, and Elizabeth are my trueborn sons and daughter, the children of the queen."

Geoffrey nodded comprehension, looking much more relaxed now.

"Now," Henry smiled wryly. "Lady Bryan is probably searching for you, and you don't want to worry her, do you?"

Geoffrey grinned and shook his head. It was time for his nap, and if he were to be truthful, he was rather looking forward to it. His Papa had allayed his fears and so now he could rest without worry.

"Run along, my boy," Henry said, patting his back as he jumped off his father's lap and hurried from the room.

When the prince was gone, Henry's brows knitted together. It was time for a talk with his wife...

...

"Mary?"

The eldest daughter of the king looked up from her embroidery to see her younger brother Edward standing in the doorway.

The former princess immediately became alarmed when she saw the distressed look on the boy's face and the tears in his eyes.

"Edward! Whatever is the matter?" she immediately discarded her work and hurried to take the little boy into her arms. Carefully but quickly, she led him to sit down by the fireplace, still holding him. As she did so, she noted that he was shaking.

"Mama..." he whispered softly.

"What is it? Did something happen to the queen?" Mary immediately felt her heart begin to race.

Edward shook his head.

"No...Mama said something...Mary, what is a bastard?"

The half-Spanish girl immediately felt speechless. How had Edward heard that? Surely someone as kind as Jane would have never said such a word.

"Tell me, please," the little blond prince pleaded.

Mary sighed as she stroked Edward's pale curls.

"It...it is how one refers to a child who's parents aren't married," she said softly and reluctantly.

"Like Harry, Geoffrey, and Elizabeth?" Edward asked. "Because Mama and Aunt Dorothy were saying that. Dorothy called them bastards and she said their mama wasn't really married to Papa. She also said she was a whore."

Despite having said as much herself, the former princess actually felt rather uncomfortable as Edward, innocent Edward, said these things without having the slightest idea what they meant.

"Well you see, it is a bit complicated-" Mary began, only for the three-year-old prince to interrupt.

"No, it's not!" Edward insisted. "Papa and their mama were either married or they weren't! And Papa and your mama were either married or they weren't! Everyone else seems to know about it except me! I don't know and I want to!"

"Edward-"

"No!" tears were falling from Edward's pale blue eyes now. "I have just as much right to know as everyone else! It isn't fair!"

Edward could feel his chest tightening and before he could say a word, the young prince collapsed.

"Edward!" He heard his sister scream before everything went black.

...

Jane felt a chill run down her spine. How had Henry found out that she had said the twins and Elizabeth were illegitimate. Who could have told? Had a spy for the Boleyns have been listening in on her conversation with the Spanish Ambassador? Surely, her sisters hadn't said anything.

"Would you care to explain this, Madam?" Henry's tone was like ice and his eyes held no warmth as he glowered at her.

"I...I..." Jane's tongue could not form a thing to say.

Just then, a groom came hurrying into the room, his expression one of urgency.

"What is it?" Henry barked, slamming his hand on the table, earning a flinch from Jane.

"Prince Edward, Majesty," the groom panted. "He's fallen terribly ill."

...

...

Yes, another cliffhanger!

And I do apologize for the lateness of this chapter, and so to make up for that, there will be another chapter out in two days, on the 8th.

Until then, everyone.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: A/N: As promised, here is the new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, Lizairy Cullen, AliLuvs242, hateme101, suns and stars, jagdoc09, QueenAnneTudor, Guest, Guest, gabbygrl247, Frog1, Guest, and markandcleo for all of the lovely reviews on the previous chapter. Enjoy it, everyone!

 _ **jagdoc09:**_ I have read that Elizabeth was very mature for her age historically, which in itself was impressive, especially given the standards that were set for royal children even back then. And given how she wasn't favored like her brother, and even her sister to some point, she had to grow up rather quickly. Even in this story, where she retained her father's favor, she would have felt the need to be more mature. Not only to behave as was expected of a princess, but also because of her attempts to stay strong for her younger brothers..

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _May 22nd, 1543_**

Dr. Linacre frowned as he felt the heat radiating from his young patient's head.

The child panted softly as he lay in bed, his nightclothes drenched in sweat.

The physician began rummaging through his bag for one of the tonics to help relieve the small prince's discomfort. Even if the concoction could not completely ease the boy's symptoms, it would still at the very least grant the child rest for the night.

A soft groan escaped Edward as he downed the tonic and lay back down, with Dr. Liancre placed a cool, damp rag on his forehead to help bring down his fever.

He had done all that he could for the time being. Then prince's well-being was in God's hands now.

...

The Seymours all sat around, none of them saying a word. The situation they were in were now in could not have been more precarious...

Little Edward was ill. Deathly ill, they had heard.

Beside himself with worry, the king had sent his personal physician to tend the child. But even that did little to quell the fear that even the finest doctor in England could not guarantee life.

Jane was terrified. Her son could die! And were that to happen, what would that mean for her? For little Margery?

If Edward were to succumb to his illness, Harry and Geoffrey would once again be the king's only male heirs, and what would stop him from once again discarding a wife in favor of another in the hopes of fathering another son?

Jane was not a princess as Katherine had been, nor did she have any powerful relatives that would be ready to champion her cause. The only wealth or power her family could boast of had been gifted to them by the king, and even then that had only been _after_ Jane had given him a son. And he could take away those titles and the power that came with them just as easily as he had given them.

He had already made his eldest daughter, once the Princess of Wales in all but name, a bastard. What would stop him from doing the same to Margery?

The blonde queen was beginning to see why Anne Boleyn had not provided any aid to Mary; she couldn't concern herself with the girl when she had her own children to think about. And now that Edward was already in the succession behind his brothers, if Jane had continued to insist on Mary's restoration, who was to say the people wouldn't remember how they had once supported the downtrodden princess and instead champion her over her brother?

She wanted to believe that the people would choose Edward by virtue of his sex, but some would still choose Mary simply because she was a woman now and Edward was a boy of three years. Even if Mary was not the one they supported, Harry and Geoffrey were seven years old now and they would reach manhood before Edward.

Edward and Margery seemed doomed to forever remain in the shadows of their elder siblings, always less important even if they were undeniably royal.

To make things worse, there were rumors that the king was seeking an alliance with the Protestant League, particularly the German faction.

From what Jane's brother Edward, Earl of Hertford, had told her, the political move had been proposed by Thomas Cromwell, with strong support from George Boleyn, who by this time had inherited his father's title of Duke of Wiltshire.

If the king were to agree to it, the Reformation would gain more power in England, which would put an end to any hope of them reconciling with Rome.

But what could Jane do? Henry had already warned her not to meddle in his affairs, and he was clearly angry with her about the meeting with Chapuys, though given the sudden bout of illness Edward had now suffered, he had not truly confronted her on the matter.

That was it! She needed to speak to her husband at once!

...

Tears dripped down Mary's cheeks as she prayed silently, pleading for the recovering of her sweet little brother.

Though she knew it was not her fault that the prince had fallen ill, the once princess still felt somewhat responsible, particularly as the distress Edward had felt had no doubt contributed to his illness becoming so violent.

As someone who had once suffered distress combined with illness, Mary could certainly testify that the two could make a condition far worse than it would have been had only one factor been at fault.

"Mary."

Making sure to finish her prayers before turning around, Mary didn't have to turn to know the voice belonged to her sister Margery.

When she did turn, she was surprised to see not only Margery, but Elizabeth as well, standing before her.

The two elder daughters of the king had not spent much time together as of late, and Mary herself knew the true reason why; Elizabeth held no love for Jane. Now that she was older and had heard others speak of her mother and father, as well as the woman who was said to have contributed to her mother's distress and ultimately led to Anne's death.

Mary herself loved and admired Jane, regarding her as a second mother to her. And Elizabeth could not forgive the sister she had loved for loving the woman she blamed for the loss of her mother.

How could Elizabeth not see how poisonous Anne had been? Her death had been a blessing, not a curse.

These thoughts were forced from Mary's mind as Margery hurried into her arms.

"I don't want Edward to die!" she wailed, burying her face in her eldest sister's shoulder.

"Father sent his physician to look after him," Mary assured the child, stroking her golden curls and wiping away her tears. "And you must have faith, sister. Edward."

"I have said my prayers," Margery spoke. "Elizabeth says leave it in God's hands."

"And she is right," Mary forced herself to smile, though she did not agree with Elizabeth embracing the Protestant mindset. "It is and you must trust Him and all will be well."

"I will," Margery promised, sniffling as she snuggled closer to Mary.

Then, without a word, Elizabeth joined her sisters and the three girls wrapped their arms about one another.

Elizabeth was ten years old now, Mary realized as she felt her hand move to the girl's brilliantly red-gold hair. In two short years, she would sail for France and marry the Duke of Angouleme. After which, the sisters may not see one another ever again, or if they did it would be a rarity.

A stab of regret pierced the half-Spanish girl's heart as she realized she had lost precious time with the sister she had once played with and loved. How could they have drifted so far apart?

There was little point in worrying over that now, all it would do is cost her more time. The only thing she could do was enjoy what little they had left...

...

Edward's eyes opened slowly as the boy stirred, his head pounding.

As he moved his head to the side, a surprise awaited him. There, leaning against the bed, his head lying on the side and his hands encasing one of Edward's within them, lay Harry. And as Edward moved his gaze to the other side, there lay a sleeping Geoffrey.

The youngest prince was shocked; his older brothers, both of whom he seldom saw, were now here gathered next to his sickbed.

The message was clear; they loved him and were worried for him.

"H-Harry..." he murmured, his throat paining him, but he was determined to let them know he knew they were there. "G-Geoffrey..."

Geoffrey's eyes opened first and the Duke of York glanced at his little brother sleepily at first, but then the icy irises widened and he whispered loudly "Harry. Harry, he's awake!"

Harry startled from his slumber and when he saw Edward looking at him, he smiled.

"How are you feeling, Edward?" he asked softly, squeezing the toddler's hand gently.

"Not well yet, but better," Edward tried to smile, but found he could not.

Geoffrey's dark brows knitted together in concern.

"Dr. Lincare said you still had a fever," he said. "He almost didn't let us come in. He thought we could get sick too."

Edward looked away. Geoffrey hadn't meant anything spiteful by his words, but they hurt nonetheless.

The blond prince knew he was not as healthy as his elder brothers were. This was not the first time he had been ill, but it had clearly been the first time it had caused so much alarm.

"But he says you'll recover soon," Harry stated brightly, seeing his youngest sibling's crestfallen expression and was determined to cheer the boy. "Then when you feel better, we'll all go see Margery and Lizbeth."

This should have sounded splendid to Edward, but it did not.

"I cannot," he sighed, pulling his hand from Harry's and picking at the bedclothes. "Mama would never allow it. She says Margery and I shouldn't be around you or Lizbeth."

Harry looked hurt while Geoffrey looked indignant.

"It's because she said we're bastards, isn't it?" the younger twin's eyes, so filled with concern a moment ago were now filled to the brim with rage. "She's a wicked liar! Papa says so!"

With that, Geoffrey stormed from the room, leaving a stunned Harry and a tearful Edward in his wake.

Harry turned back to Edward and immediately set to trying to soothe the now sobbing boy.

"Geoff didn't mean that," the Prince of Wales assured. "He...he's just upset...Lizbeth says people are upset, the words they say are never from the heart..."

But this did little to quell his younger brother's anguish.

...

Jane entered her husband's chambers. This was rare as it had always been he who came to hers, she had only been in his chambers once before, when he had warned her not to meddle in his affairs.

When she entered the room, Henry was sitting in a chair near the fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand as he stared absentmindedly into the flames.

"Your Majesty?" she spoke in a meek voice, just as she had done when he first courted her. Perhaps it would help to ease his displeasure with her and remind him of when they were happier, before Anne's bastards had ruined everything.

"I was just about to summon you," Henry turned to her and smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "Come, sit with me, sweetheart. Have you been to visit our son?"

Jane nodded. Perfect, he was the one to bring up the topic of their child, so it would not seem odd for her to do so.

"I have," she answered, looking worried. "Dr. Linacre assures that he will recover, but I just worry so for our dear boy."

"As do I," Hnery replied. "As do his sisters, and his brothers."

Jane shivered as he mentioned the other children, realizing immediately what Henry was doing.

"Your Majesty, I-"

"When I visited our son and daughter, Madam, they both expressed to me, separately I might add, that they wished desperately to speak to their brothers and older sister, but that you always have given some reason or another why they cannot. Even more troubling, Geoffrey has brought to my attention a certain conversation in which you mistakenly referred to him, as well as Harry and Elizabeth, as bastards. Forgive me, but I was under the impression that my only living bastard child is the Lady Mary. To suggest otherwise is nothing short of treason."

That dreaded word...treason...

Jane began to tremble, but found that she could not say a word. What could she possibly say to that?

"You will never utter such wicked lies again," Henry glared at her. "You will never engage in private meeting with this Chapuys again. Is any of this at all unclear?"

"N-no..." Jane stammered. "O-of course not, Your Majesty."

"You will offer your apologies to the princes and princess for causing them such pain," Henry continued, much to his wife's chagrin. "And you will allow them to see Edward and Margery as is their right. Do you understand?"

Not trusting herself to speak, the third wife of the king nodded reluctantly.

"Madam," Henry barely inclined his head before turning away from her.

Taking this as him dismissing her, Jane stood, curtsied, and exited the room, her entire frame now trembling. She had hoped that the worry they shared over their son would have enabled her to once again coax the king into seeing the matter from her point of view. But that plan had failed. If anything, her visit had only served to make things worse.

He had not said it outright, but the message was apparent nonetheless; the king no longer loved her.

...

...

There you are, ladies and gentleman, chapter 17. And the next will be out on Monday, February 11th. Until then, everyone.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: A/N: As promised, here is the new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, Guest, williamvalois, Ella174, Frog1, the dark euphie, markandcleo, Guest, suns and stars, QueenAnneTudor, gabbygrl247, jamestudor, Lizairy Cullen, Robin4, and KitKassie for all the reviews on the previous chapter, and do hope you all enjoy this one as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _May 25th, 1543_**

Princess Margery sat with her sister Elizabeth, both girls hard at work on their respective tasks, Margery on her needlework and Elizabeth deeply immersed in her latest book.

The book had been a gift from their father and was written in German, which Elizabeth herself was currently studying under the watchful eye of her tutor Master Ascham.

Since the Duke of Cleves had agreed to an alliance with England, he had announced he would be sending an envoy to Henry's court, his cousin Philip, Duke of Bavaria. And Henry did not want to miss the opportunity to show just how intelligent his children were, and so they, particularly his eldest sons and daughter, were being taught the language of their new ally.

Margery herself had been learning a few basic phrases, though it was clear that she did not posses the same tongue for languages as Elizabeth, who could now engage in conversation in French, Italian, Latin, and now a bit of German.

"I wonder if the Duke is handsome," Margery said thoughtfully as her needle slid through the material, leaving behind a trail of neat, nearly invisible stitches. "I can't wait to meet him. Lady Catherine says I'll have a new gown for the occasion."

"Kat told me I would as well," Elizabeth replied, finally looking up from her book, biting back a frown as she did. Margery's governess was none other than Catherine Brandon, the Duchess of Suffolk, with whom Elizabeth did not especially get along. The woman always seemed to be very bitter and cold toward the eldest princess, mostly due to her being the daughter of the departed Queen Anne.

Elizabeth's own governess, Mistress Champernowne, had once mentioned something about the failed Pilgrimage of Grace several years ago, and how her great-uncle Norfolk and Charles Brandon had had a hand in quelling it, the latter of whom had endured a tumultuous relationship with his wife as a result.

The pair had not ended their marriage, but after that, along with the loss of what would have been their second child, Catherine had separated from her husband, taking their sons Henry and Charles with her.

It amused Elizabeth to think of how many of her relations, both by blood and by marriage, shared the same names and the princess resolved that should she ever mother children of her own, she should like to give them more unique names.

She hadn't thought much of children, even though the Anglo-French alliances was still going strong and so it was very likely she would be married to King Francis's son, Prince Charles. After which, she knew she would be expected to give her husband children, just like her mother had done before her.

A part of her wasn't sure how she really felt about marrying Charles, but knew it was her duty as a princess to do so.

Margery, at the tender age of five, would not really be of marriageable age for some time, but she already had quite a penchant for romance. She had once confided in Elizabeth her fantasies of marrying a handsome, chivalrous prince and live happily ever after. Unlike her older sister, she did not know that being a princess, or even a queen, did not guarantee a happy marriage.

Elizabeth knew from the stories of her mother and father, coupled with the significantly cooler relationship between her father and stepmother, that royal relationships had their own turmoils, particularly as women were much put upon and some, like Jane, chose to deal with their circumstances as best they could. Others, like Anne, tried to stand against it, for all the good it had done Anne.

Though a part of her loved and respected her noble father, Elizabeth also resented his treatment of her mother, and though she didn't want to admit it, she knew that had Harry and Geoffrey been lost, or they had been daughters as well, Anne would have been possibly cast aside and forgotten as Mary's mother had been, and her children declared illegitimate.

Kat had not assured her this was not the case; the woman had known her young charge would not be easily swayed by obvious lies, and so she had privately agreed but warned Elizabeth when she was younger and less in control of her tongue to never utter such things lest unfriendly ears hear them and she could get into trouble.

Jane was no longer regarded by the king as his sweet, golden-haired angel, Elizabeth knew that, but she did not discuss this with her younger sister, who it seemed was better off continuing in her blissful ignorance of the situation, doing her embroidery and prattling on about her romantic notions.

...

Little Edward sighed as he glanced out the window of his chambers, watching as Harry and Geoffrey ran together through the courtyard.

Even if he had not been recovering from his recent bout of illness, Edward would not have been permitted to run about outside with his brothers and the other boys. His father had always been protective of him, and thanks to his falling ill mere days ago, his mother had become more protective as well.

While his brothers were out learning to ride a horse, archery, and a number of other things that boys of their age and station would partake in, he was left to his books and studies.

He had overheard Harry and Geoffrey's governess Lady Bryan telling Mistress Luttrell that Edward was the less important prince, but his father the king still insisted on keeping him safe. But Edward thought that that didn't mean his father had to keep him from having fun too.

The visits from his sisters Mary and Margery, made it bearable at least. Whenever his lessons became too dull for him to continue, Mary always found a way to make them more entertaining, and Margery loved to tell him stories.

Harry sometimes visited him too, but Geoffrey did not. The younger twin was still angry with Edward about what his mother had said.

Edward wished he had not said anything, maybe then Geoffrey would come see him too.

He knew the twins were closer to one another than anyone else, but when it came to him they had argued fiercely. He had not been present for the conflict, but Margery had told him that Geoffrey had gone to his own rooms and refused to speak to anyone, even Harry, for the rest of the evening.

And yet, here the two were, playing as though nothing had transpired between them. But Edward, even as young as he was, knew Geoffrey would not be so forgiving toward him.

...

Mary was horrified. How could her father do this?

She knew he had pondered the idea of sanctioning an alliance with the German Protestants, but she could not believe he was actually going through with it.

This had to be the work of Cromwell, the overreaching heretic. Just because he had done a form of service for the king, now he had the king's ear just as Wolsey before him.

A part of the former princess smirked as she remembered for all his service to the crown, it had not saved Wolsey when the king wanted his head.

Ambassador Chapuys came to see her less frequently after the incident with him and the queen being overheard referring to Anne's children as the bastards they were.

Mary did love her little half-siblings, but found that she still could not apply their pretended titles to them.

She had visited Edward not long ago, and found the child very distressed. He had had an argument with Geoffrey, who had still not spoken to him.

Mary loved Geoffrey, who had once told her she was like a mother to him and Harry, but she couldn't deny that the younger twin was a great deal like his mother had been and she hoped it would not cause him misery. The harlot had deserved what she had gotten, but Geoffrey was still innocent. For now.

Elizabeth however, was on her way to becoming a heretic as well. The girl was being raised a Protestant, and she was looking forward to the arrival of the German envoy, the Duke Philip and his cousin, Princess Anne of Cleves.

All Mary could do was have faith that all would be well.

...

...

Well, I do sincerely hope that you all enjoyed that. The next chapter will be out on Monday, February 18th. Until then, everyone.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: A/N: Here is the new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, suns and stars, the dark euphie, Sea Goodess Amphitrite, Guest, Guest, QueenAnneTudor, Lizairy Cullen, Guest, Tea, tricorvus, Guest, williamvalois, BellalunaMcKenzie, jamestudor, and Guest for all the reviews on chapter 17. Also an additional thanks to tricorvus for the additional reviews on chapters 15 and 16, Mademoiselle Azzaro for the review on chapter 1, and elizabethgolden for the review on chapter 16. Now, while this is way late, I hope you all still enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _July 17th, 1543_**

"Her Highness, the Princess Anne of Cleves!"

Henry did not know what to make of Princess Anne.

As she drew nearer to him, he noted that she was not beautiful in the classical sense like his wife Jane and the other English ladies, with her dark features and swarthy complexion. But this helped her to stand out, not unlike a certain woman from the past that shared her name...

Unlike his beloved Anne Boleyn however, this German princess was taller, with heavy lidded eyes that, while unusual, were not unattractive. Her nose was a bit long, but even still that did little to detract from the fact that she could still be called a handsome woman.

"Your Majesty," she greeted in accented voice as she slid into a deep curtsy.

"My lady princess," Henry inclined his head. "You are most welcome at my court."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Anne smiled as she rose. "Your Majesty is most gracious."

The king stood from his throne and took the princess's hand and indicated his wife.

"My beloved wife, Queen Jane."

Anne curtsied once more as Jane regarded her with a small smile.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Highness."

"My sons," Henry continued, seemingly now disregarding his wife. "Henry, the Prince of Wales."

Little Harry approached and bowed.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness," he said, his blue eyes twinkling merrily as he looked at Anne.

"The pleasure is mine, Prince Henry," Anne's smile widened as she realized the similarities between father and son.

"Prince Geoffrey, the Duke of York."

Geoffrey, seeming a bit more solemn than his elder twin, though no less cordial, approached.

"Your Highness," he greeted as he bowed with gravity quite unexpected in a boy of seven years. Nevertheless, meeting both of the renowned twin princes of England was not something Anne would consider dull in the slightest.

"The Prince Edward."

Edward, while dignified, did not showcase the same grace as his brothers had in his bow. But it could not be faulted as the boy was only three.

"And now, you shall meet my daughters. The Princess Elizabeth."

Elizabeth, clothed in a gown of pale green silk with a gold damask petticoat, along with a Tudor Rose stitched on the bodice, came forward. Her red-gold hair had been pulled back and held by a pale green French hood trimmed with pearls.

" _Willkommen, Prinzessin Anna_ ," she greeted, the German words smoothly rolling from her tongue.

Anne's eyes widened slightly as she heard her mother tongue spoken nearly flawlessly from the young child standing before her.

" _Danke, Prinzessin,_ " she replied.

"The Princess Margery."

Margery, clothed in pale pink satin with a yellow silk petticoat and her golden curls secured with a jeweled headpiece, moved forward, holding what appeared to be a small nosegay of roses.

"For you, Your Highness," she greeted shyly. "I think they are pretty."

"Thank you, Princess," Anne took the flowers and gently took the child's tiny hand. "And I think you are pretty."

Margery's heart-shaped face flushed slightly at the compliment.

The corners of Jane's mouth twitched, but fortunately Henry did not notice. Edward Seymour did however and he quickly shot his sister a glare over the king's shoulder.

Mary watched with apprehension as Elizabeth and Margery curtsied before the Princess Anne.

How could her father go through with this? Had he completely taken leave of his senses? How could he have invited this heretic princess and her cousin here?

"My daughter, the Lady Mary."

With a heavy heart and light step, Mary forced herself to move forward, inclining her head as she curtsied as shallowly as she dared without incurring her father's displeasure.

"Madam," she greeted in the passive tone she had greeted another heretic Anne with just a few years before.

"Lady Mary."

If Princess Anne was offended in the slightest, her demeanor did not reveal it. Her smile was still as wide as it had been with the others and her tone was light and cheerful.

"Your Majesty has such lovely children," she said to Henry.

The court applauded as the children took their seats and Henry gallantly led Anne to hers.

"His Grace, the Duke Philip of Bavaria!"

...

"Duke Philip is quite handsome," Margery sighed as she sat with her sisters that evening, the three girls all poring over their respective tasks, Mary and Margery with their embroidery, and Elizabeth with her book. "It appears he's already quite taken with you, Mary."

"He doesn't even know me," Mary said simply, not looking up from her work. "We have nothing in common."

"You never know," Margery said with a giggle.

...

"For goodness sake, Jane!" Edward growled. "Will you stop behaving like a petulant child?"

Jane frowned.

"You don't have to see the king flaunting his little bastards as if every day I'm not reminded that that whore gave him two sons and I've only given him one!"

Edward glared at his sister, barely managing to resist the urge to slap her or to shake her until her teeth rattled. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced himself to smile and speak in what he believed to be a more kindly tone.

"Jane, you must once more make yourself more agreeable to His Majesty. If you were to give him another son, he will be more likely to see your children more favorably than his elder children. And you must continue to champion your own children's interests alone, no more foolish interceptions on Lady Mary's behalf."

Jane thought for a moment on this, and nodded.

"Yes, after all...sons would come first in the succession more than a mere girl..." she said quietly.

Believing he had finally managed to get through to his naive sister, Edward actually smiled and nodded.

"Precisely," he said, placing his hands on Jane's shoulder, causing her to look at him. "Edward is before Lady Mary by virtue of his sex. And any other boys you are able to provide for His Majesty will be as well."

"We just need to get rid of the little bastards in front of him," chimed in Thomas.

Edward glared and hurriedly covered his brother's mouth.

"Are you out of your senses?" he snarled. "Mind your tongue, Thomas. If any of our enemies were to hear you speak such treasonous things, you could finish us all!"

"But the king-" Jane started, but Edward held up a hand to silence her.

"The king has yet to forgive you for your own actions towards his sons," he told her sternly. "As I recall, you still have not even pretended to show the boys any kindness. No one says you have to love them, but at least act as though you don't completely despise them."

Jane looked offended, but said nothing. What if Edward was right? What if this was the only way to regain Henry's love?

...

Catherine Brandon could not express her disgust when she learned her sons, little Charles and Henry, were to join the twin princes as companions. Of course, whatever her true feelings, her husband had insisted they could not refuse the king's orders. So little Hal became a companion to Prince Henry, Charles to Geoffrey. And perhaps the most infuriating thing of all, they got along quite well together.

When the king and queen had called for her to act as a governess for the young Princess Margery, however, Catherine had found that she could not refuse that either. While it would be difficult to watch her sons interact with children she did not truly believe were royalty, she bore no ill will towards Queen Jane nor her children, the true royal children aside from Princess Mary of course.

However, it did trouble her that Queen Jane no longer seemed to show any interests in Mary's restoration. At least, that was how it appeared.

But that couldn't be. Perhaps she was preoccupied at the time with the German duke's sister and cousin visiting. As if there weren't enough problems at court already.

...

"Geoffrey, please."

Harry's eyes stared into those of his brother's as the younger twin frowned. Did Harry not understand what he was asking?

Geoffrey stood up and set down the book he had been reading just moments before.

"Harry..."

"Please, Geoffrey," Harry was pleading now. "Edward hasn't seen you in days and it's breaking his heart. I know you feel angry and hurt about what the queen said, I do as well. But those were not Edward's words, you can't blame him for what his mother said."

Geoffrey looked down. He had not wanted to hurt Edward, and yet he had. Geoffrey had been hurt too, which was why he had been so angry. But Harry was right, Edward was not to blame for his mother's malice.

The younger prince's cold expression softened as he smiled at Harry.

"You're right," he said softly. "Edward is our brother...and none of this is his fault...but I need a little time to think of what to say."

"Just tell him you're sorry," Harry said. "Don't delay this. The longer you wait, the more hurt will take over. Don't wait, Geoffrey. Edward is in his chambers, go talk to him."

The young Prince of Wales could be quite persuasive when he wanted to be, Geoffrey would not object to that. And he also found that he could not object to his brother's request now. He didn't want to admit it, but Harry was right; Edward could not be blamed for his mother. And they had been fairly close before the incident. They may be only half-brothers, but they were brothers nonetheless.

"Very well," Geoffrey nodded.

A smile crossed the younger prince's way.

"You really are far more patient and amiable than me," he told Harry. "You're also less intemperate. You'll make a great king someday."

Harry's cheeks turned slightly pink at his brother's praise.

Secretly, Harry believed his stubborn, younger brother to be bit more suited to their father's place than he. But he was the eldest and so when their father finally followed their mother, the crown would rest on Harry's shoulders. He had been taught this since he was old enough to understand it.

And from the way things were progressing at the moment, when the time came he would marry the Infanta Juana from Spain, binding Spain and England together and fortifying both countries against their enemies.

He wanted to be a good king, and he knew he certainly had a daunting example to live up to; his father had freed England from the corruption of Rome and established the Reformation in England, and several countries were following suit. And having been brought up as a Protestant just like his brother and sister, Harry was determined to carry on his father's work.

"I'll be back in a moment," Geoffrey stated, before turning and leaving the room.

...

Charles sighed as he watched his young sons, both now companions to the twin princes, once again running across the courtyard playing.

Both Prince Harry and Prince Geoffrey would soon be given separate establishments from one another and their companions would be housed with them. Charles's older son, also named Henry but commonly called Hal, would go with Harry and his younger son, also named Charles, would go with Geoffrey.

Though his wife had returned to court, the Duke of Suffolk knew she had not come back in an attempt to reconcile with him. She had taken the position of governess for Princess Margery, most likely because their sons were still there for the time being and it would give her a chance to be near them. But she seemed to have no desire whatsoever to see or be near her husband.

Little Hal and Charles still seemingly did not know what had happened between their parents, which surprised their father; Charles was sure that his wife would have taken the opportunity to slander him to their children, completely destroying their view of him.

...

To say Jane Boleyn was delighted would be a vast understatement.

She had missed her courses last month, as well as this month, and though she suspected the true cause, she didn't dare get her hopes up in case she was wrong.

It had only taken one visit from an experienced midwife to confirm her thoughts; Jane was pregnant.

"George will be thrilled," Ursula Misseldon, now Ursula Bryan, said with a smile when Jane confided to her.

The two women who had once been Anne Boleyn's ladies in waiting had long since become good friends.

"The princes and the princess will be delighted as well," Jane replied. "Elizabeth once asked me when she was much younger when I would give her a cousin. Now she'll have one."

"I won't be surprised if I don't follow suit," Ursula said with a crude smirk. "Francis is... _quite attentive._ "

Jane covered her hand with her mouth in an attempt to hide her shock. Though, she knew she shouldn't have been shocked given that Ursula and her husband, George's cousin, were both known to possess a more perverse sense of humor.

Nevertheless, this did little to quell Jane's delight; she was finally going to be a mother!

...

Anne of Cleves sighed contentedly as she took ease in the chambers that had been offered to her for the duration of her visit.

England was so different from her much more austere home back in Germany.

The king's wife might be cold and far from receptive, but his children were wonderful, as was the king himself. The German princess was especially interested in the king's daughter Elizabeth. The princess was so young, but also very intelligent, possibly even more than the king himself.

...

He couldn't take it anymore...

The king's whore was long since dead, but every breath her children breathed brought England closer and closer to her doom. And something had to be done!

He knew exactly what had to be done...

And this time, he would **not** fail.

...

...

So, once again ladies and gentlemen, I do humbly apologize for the extreme delay, and to ensure it doesn't happen again, I took the liberty of adding to the next two chapters, just so as to prevent not only another delay, but also give you lovely readers more to read. And the next chapter will be out on Monday, April 8th. Until then, everyone.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: A/N: Here is the new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it. Sorry for the late post, everyone, we had some **crazy** weather here the past couple of days, thunderstorms and the like. Thank you to Guest, princessElizabethtudor, Guest, jamestudor, QueenAnneTudor, hateme101, dark euphie, Guest, suns and stars, Diamond Girl, Guest, tricorvus, Lady Eleanor of Slytherin, Roberta Lozano, Child of Dreams, and jamestudor for all of the reviews on the previous chapter. And I hope you all enjoy this brand new chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, Showtime does.

...

 ** _July 21st, 1543_**

George didn't know what to say when Jane told him the news.

"You're really..." his words failed him as Jane, eyes shimmering with tears of joy, nodded.

"Yes, the midwife says God willing, the baby will be here in autumn," she answered.

Still stunned, George smiled as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

He knew that she would be expected by many to give him a son to pass along the Boleyn name as well as the titles he possessed, but even with their less than pleasant start to the marriage, the new Boleyn patriarch could never bring himself to cause Jane the same heartache that the king had caused Anne. If the child she now carried inside her was a son, he would be delighted. But if it turned out to be a daughter, he would gladly welcome the girl and treasure her.

Jane laid her head against his chest all the while sighing happily as the pair each placed a hand upon her stomach.

"I shall send you to the country then," George spoke, now completely serious. "For your health."

Jane nodded, still touched by the man her once cold and aloof husband had become.

The two had agreed to wait before telling Elizabeth and the boys, particularly given how impatient the boys could be if they knew of this matter. Even sweet little Harry would demand to see his new cousin, which would of course be impossible. Better to tell them once the babe was due to arrive.

...

"Princess Anne is lovely," Margery remarked to her mother as the pair sat in her mother's chambers, sewing clothing that would later be given to the poor.

"Yes, I suppose she is," Jane replied placidly, attempting to conceal her disdain not only for the German princess, but also for the fact that ever since her daughter, whom she saw so rarely, entered and the two began their work, Margery had never stopped speaking of Elizabeth, the twins, the visiting princess, and her handsome duke cousin.

"Duke Phillip seems to have become quite fond of Mary," Margery then spoke up as she finished stitching the sleeve on a linen shirt.

Jane's attention perked up slightly as she heard this.

"Oh?" She looked up from her own work to her daughter. "Is that so?"

Margery grinned and nodded.

"He says that she is beautiful, gracious, a true princess," she sighed dreamily. "Even Mary seems to have actually become rather taken with him as well. She had told me just a day or two ago that she wished to leave for the country, but now has decided to delay her departure."

The little princess was so enraptured by the interaction between her sister and the duke that she did not see the expression her mother now bore.

Jane smiled. This was perfect!

Henry had talked once more of marriage proposals for the Lady Mary, but none had come to fruition. After all, not many princes would consent to marry a bastard, even a royal bastard.

Deciding she would speak with Edward later about this, she returned her attention to her daughter.

"Mother, do you think Papa will give Edward a title too?" the golden-haired princess asked. "Harry is the Prince of Wales, Geoffrey is the Duke of York, but Edward is only Prince Edward."

Jane felt a heaviness in her as she heard this. It was true, Edward had yet to be given a title aside from prince. Surely the king would bestow something on him!

Not saying a word, the queen resumed her work, leaving little Margery's question unanswered.

"You're absolutely certain this is true?"

Edward looked incredulously at his sister, who nodded hesitantly.

A great smile graced the now Duke of Somerset's face.

"That is perfect! Then that settles one of the king's concerns, marrying off his bastard."

Jane bristled. Though she no longer sought to restore Mary to the throne, she still empathized with the poor girl. At least that was what she told herself.

After all, a part of her knew that Mary would detest the fact that Duke Philip was a Protestant and she a Catholic. But if the king were to order the marriage and Duke Wilhelm were to consent to it, she would have little choice but to obey.

"What if she doesn't want this marriage?" the queen asked meekly.

"She will have no choice," Edward answered callously. "The girl's happiness is no concern of mine, nor should it be yours. A mere duke, would not be able to champion her rights to the throne. And Phillip would be unable to do so without jeopardizing the alliance between the king and Duke Wilhelm. Were that to happen, I doubt Wilhelm would be far from forgiving. Even a blood tie wouldn't save a traitor."

It made Jane's blood run cold to hear her brother speak in such an uncaring tone, but she knew he was right. And her children already had to contend with the supposed rights of Harry, Geoffrey, and Elizabeth. They could not afford to contend with Mary any longer.

...

"You must take great care," Chapuys whispered as he handed the vial to Brereton, a bit unnerved by the fanatical gleam in the latter's eyes.

"Certainly," Brereton nodded, stowing the vial in his doublet. "The twin bastards will be dead within a fortnight."

"And if all goes as planned, not only will the Princess Mary be restored to her rightful place, but the king will, I pray, finally come to his senses and once again return to the fold," Chapuys stated.

Brereton nodded.

"I am prepared," he declared. "I will not fail this time, I swear on my life."

The two men quickly left before they could be discovered.

Brereton smiled as he returned to his chambers. He was unable to do away with the whore, but she had ultimately died just the same. And now the two little whelps she never should have even had would follow her.

...

Princess Anne smiled as she watched her cousin and the Lady Mary dance. The two moved gracefully across the floor, their perfectly mirroring one another.

Phillip had confessed to her just that afternoon that, despite only having met Mary recently and only knowing her for a short time, he was indeed and truly falling in love with the English king's eldest daughter, going so far as to declare her the most beautiful creature on God's earth, marveling at her inner and outer radiance.

Anne knew her brother Wilhelm would believe that Phillip would be easy enough to find a wife for, one that could offer a finer benefit than a king's illegitimate daughter who had no claims to her father's royal lineage. But she also knew that her brother would see such an opportunity to not only solidify their Anglo-German alliance, but also quell the king's suspected fears of his daughter attempting to force her way back into the succession.

Phillip was no traitor, nor would he ever stand against his family. So the chances of him attempting to champion his wife's supposed rights over her legitimate half-brothers were nearly as likely to occur as one plucking the moon and stars from the sky.

Anne adored her cousin and she deeply empathized with the poor former princess. She could see the girl's eyes dancing with delight as Phillip gently guided her through the steps of the pavane. Though the dance itself was meant to be stately and solemn, both Phillip and Mary were smiling at one another, as though they had separated from the rest of the world.

There was no doubt in the German princess's mind; they were in love. And perhaps with the right persuasion, the king would look favorably upon the match.

...

Even hours after the dancing, when she had long since retired to her chambers, Mary still felt as though she were floating.

Phillip's kiss still seemed to linger on her lips from when he had bade her goodnight.

She had not wanted to love him, or even to like him, and yet despite everything she felt her heart opening to the German duke.

Her hopelessly romantic younger sister had inquired about Phillip and Mary's opinion on him, as had her lady stepmother. This had surprised her as her stepmother had paid her little attention as of late. But surely it was only because she was so concerned for poor, sickly Edward and the toll it had been taking on her marriage with the king.

The royal couple were nowhere near as happy as they had once been just a few short years ago. The king rarely ever saw the queen except for formal occasions when he must be beside her.

Mary truly pitied her stepmother, whom she still knew to be a kind and virtuous lady. She knew that her father's infidelities had wounded her poor departed mother, who had masterfully masked her pain and she knew it must be just as painful for Jane.

Though she behaved amiably as a queen should, Mary knew that Jane was not of royal blood as Katherine had been and so had not been taught to mask her true feelings. And it was glaringly obvious whenever Henry took one of her ladies as a mistress.

As a result, the queen now spent the majority of her time with little Edward and Margery.

Her thoughts slowly returned to Phillip.

She had taken to wearing a great deal of black after her mother's death, only wearing other colors during special occasions. But now she felt herself desiring to do away with her austere black gowns, something Margery had been trying to persuade her to do for sometime.

"Black gowns are for funerals and for old ladies like Lady Bryan," the youngest princess had declared once. "You're still young and beautiful, Mary."

Dinner would begin shortly, Mary realized. Phillip would be there and she wanted him to see her in something aside from the darker gowns she had worn as of late.

With this in mind, she returned to her chambers.

...

George stared down at the letter and frowned.

His uncle Norfolk, whom he had all but cut ties with after the deaths of Anne, Mary, and Thomas, had contacted him. Everyone knew that despite having the king's ear once, the old duke had all but lost his standing to the Seymours, Charles Brandon, and his own nephew.

George was the only Boleyn whom the king was still positively predisposed toward, and Norfolk knew that.

The letter spoke of a relation by the name of Katherine Howard. Apparently, she had been under the care of the Dowager Duchess at Lambeth after the death of her father.

Katherine was young, only about seventeen years old, and had little in the way of prospects. And in the letter, Norfolk was entreating George to try to secure a position for Katherine. He had looked after Mary's children, surely he could look after Katherine's interests too?

George was outraged. He knew exactly what his uncle was doing. But he also knew just how to play the man's game.

 _'I will soon join my wife at Hever_ ,' he wrote, smirking as his mind concocted his plan, ' _Send Katherine there, and I will devise a way to secure her a position at court_.'

It would not be the response Norfolk would want, but it would be the only one he would receive.

His father and uncle had used his sisters in an attempt to further their own ambitions, he would not allow the chance to use another member of their family.

...

Brereton had observed the twins' daily activities over the last few days until he was certain that he knew the routine by heart.

The pair would have breakfast in their rooms together but due to the king's insistence, they would have dinner in the Great Hall with everyone else.

Like with all of the other members of the royal family, their food was tasted before it was served to them, but if he were to add the poison right as it was being served to the boys, no one would be the wiser.

And of course with those heretics visiting, the blame could very easily be shifted to them. After all, everyone knew that Duke Wilhelm thought highly of himself and his kin. It would be just like such an arrogant man to believe he could murder the boys with impunity.

So, Brereton had managed to enter the twins' suite of rooms while the meal was being prepared.

The man was determined to see his duty through, so when Lady Bryan dismissed the tasters and other gentlemen of the twins' household before going to summon the so-called princes, Brereton quickly emptied the contents of the vial into the tureen of soup that sat upon the table in the outer chamber and hastily stirred the liquid. The white film disappeared within the contents of the broth just as a man emerged from the chambers.

"Who are you?" the man asked, looking puzzled.

"I...am one of His Majesty's grooms," Brereton answered quickly, trying to think of a lie to explain his presence there. "His...His Majesty has gone hunting this morning, and may be delayed in returning for dinner later, so I thought it prudent to inform the princes."

He forced himself not to flinch as he referred to the boys by their false titles, lest the man notice it and become suspicious.

The man frowned, but said nothing. Even so, Brereton felt an odd sense of foreboding, but only for a moment before he saw Harry take his seat.

"Geoffrey says he'll be along in a moment," the child told the man standing near Brereton.

"Is Lady Bryan scolding him again?" the man asked with a wry smile.

"She told him that expressing his displeasure at certain food is 'unbecoming of a prince of England'," Harry grinned as a bowl of the soup was set in front of him.

The man chuckled and Brereton forced himself to do the same, but his smile was genuine when he saw Harry lift his spoon and brought it to his lips.

Harry grimaced slightly as he swallowed.

"Is something wrong, Your Highness?" the man asked, noticing the child's expression.

"Uncle, is this supposed to be sweet?" Harry questioned.

Geoffrey had now entered the room, closely followed by a now flustered Lady Bryan.

Before the man could answer, Harry began to gag and cough.

"Harry?" Geoffrey looked worried as his twin's face grew pale and the older boy began tp press his hand to his mouth as bile rose in his throat.

Brereton watched as the boy began to cough even harder before retching.

"Harry!" Geoffrey cried out before turning to the others. "What's wrong with him?!"

"Fetch the physician!" Lady Bryan ordered one of the men, who nodded and hurried from the room.

"Will, what's happening?!" Geoffrey looked up at the man, his eyes fearful as Harry began to tremble, softly at first but then more and more violently.

The man who had stood there surveyed the now vomiting prince before turning to the tureen.

"He was perfectly well until he..."

Brereton tried to subtly retreat from the room, all the while wondering why the poison had acted so quickly, quickly enough to prevent Geoffrey from eating the soup as well. He had just reached the doorway when the man, Will, gasped.

"Poison!" the man shouted.

Brereton broke into a run and had just entered the hall, only to feel himself be seized and wrestled him to the floor.

"Don't let him die!" he could hear Geoffrey wailing now. _**"DON'T LET HIM DIE!"**_

...

...

I do hope everyone enjoyed that. And the next chapter will be out on Monday, April 15th. Until then, everyone.

And yes, I know I took a slight liberty there with Katherine's age, but it's only a small one.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Here is the new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it. Sorry for the more than delayed reply, I have been beyond busy what with starting a new job, working on on several stories, one of my cousins having a new baby, another's graduation, and several other things that I'm not going to bore you with here. Thank you all for enjoying the story as much as you have, and I hope you will continue to do so. Thank you to princessElizabethtudor, hateme101, Guest, Sy94, Guest, suns and stars, QueenAnneTudor, jamestudor, Robin4, Guest, Lady Eleanor of Slytherin, Lizairy Cullen, xshynenstarx, shame and shame, jamestudor, tricorvus, Mari Wollsch, Sakura, Stephanie, sander9876, samanthafelix, Vwchick, and Guest for all of the fantastic reviews. Enjoy this update!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtime does.

...

 ** _July 23rd, 1543_**

When his formidable and highly-respected mother Queen Elizabeth of York had died, Henry had grieved. When his darling Anne died giving birth to their little miracles that were the twin princes, he had mourned.

Now, one of those princes lingered between life and death, and Henry was beside himself with worry. He had lost one son before when little Henry Fitzroy had died, he didn't think he could bear to lose his first true-born son.

With nothing else to do, he had all but locked himself away in the chapel, praying ceaselessly for his son's survival, as was all Dr. Linacre had said could be done now, for the young prince and whether he would survive or not was in God's hands now.

Just like Anne's had been...

And so Henry prayed, pleading not to lose his son as he had lost his wife. But he was not the only one doing so...

...

"Would you mind if I pray with you?"

Phillip's voice startled Mary and she finished her prayer before turning to him, a look of confusion on her delicate features.

"What did you say?" she asked, certain that she had somehow misheard the Bavarian duke.

"Would you mind if I pray with you?" Phillip questioned once more. "I have no doubt you worry for your brother and pray for his recovery. I do as well and if it is any consolation to you, my lady..."

"But you are a Lutheran," Mary stammered. "And I am a Catholic."

"There is but one God, Mary," Phillip smiled gently as he placed a hand on the once princess's trembling shoulder. "The rest is over trifles. Catholic or Protestant, I believe He will hear your prayers as well as mine."

This took Mary aback. And yet, she found herself nodding.

"Very well," she said before kneeling once more with Phillip following suit.

As she prayed for her brother, and the rest of her family and the others whom she held dear, she pondered Phillip's words.

...

Little Geoffrey was inconsolable.

The boy had hardly slept or eaten since his brother had been poisoned and he certainly had no intention of leaving the older prince's side.

"What if he dies and I'm not here?" he had cried when Lady Bryan had tried to coax him into getting some rest, lest his own body become weakened. "He would die believing I abandoned him! I can't leave him!"

And so, despite all efforts to convince him otherwise, he would not leave Harry's bedchamber. He now sat, as he had for the last two days, beside Harry's bed, clinging to his twin's hand.

"Please don't go," he murmured softly, holding Harry's palm to his cheek. "You can't go yet. You can't leave me, Lizbeth, Edward, Margery, and Mary. Please, Harry. Please come back to us."

Suddenly, Harry's hand twitched.

Geoffrey's eyes widened as he glanced down at his brother, hardly daring to believe it...

Blue eyes met blue as Harry blinked slowly and a small but tired smile climbed his lips as he regarded his brother.

"Geoffrey..."

...

...

Yes, I know it was short, but I promise the chapter that will be out on Monday will more than make up for both the shortness of this chapter, as well as the long absence. I promise. Until then, everyone!


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Alright, everyone I know it seems like I dropped off the face of the planet for a while there and I am sorry about that. Between a summer job, a laptop on the fritz, and a number of other things, I haven't had much time to write. But with the summer coming to an end, I will be able to write more frequently once more, particularly after getting a new laptop. In the meantime, thank you so much to everyone who has kept up with this story. And an additional thank you to Lizairy Cullen, Roberta Lozano, Child of Dreams, Guest, deeciphereed, Robin4, hateme101, Frog1, Keisha, tricorvus, jamestudor, naturenohurry91, Purple Sky of Dreams. IWantColouredRain, Sakura, Guest, and Lady Eleanor of Slytherin for all of the fantastic reviews on the previous chapter. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter and one last thanks for your patience.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtime does.

...

 ** _July 24th, 1543_**

Henry clung to both of his sons as he silently thanked God for His mercy.

Little Harry was still very weak, but Dr. Linacre had determined that all seemed well and the prince would most likely survive. Fortunately, he had not ingested much of the poison and so when it was purged from his body, it had not been as bad as it could have been.

The king was more than grateful that his boys were both safe and alive. He had immediately sent for Elizabeth, Edward, Margery, and even Mary. It had taken him nearly losing his son to realize just how much he loved his children. Even the daughter he no longer deemed legitimate. Now he wished only to see his sons and daughters and be near them.

Cromwell had reported to him that Brereton had confessed to the poisoning. He would be dealt with in good time, but for now Henry would spend the time, time he had come so close to losing forever, with his children all of them.

...

Cromwell had been present when George and Thomas Boleyn had watched a man be boiled alive feet-first, while Cromwell himself had left. He had also heard that the late Thomas Boleyn was believed by many to have ice in his veins instead of blood.

And now, as he stood watching as George Boleyn stood in front of William Brereton, his expression one of absolute fury, Cromwell himself felt a chill overcome him as though he were on the receiving end of the man's searing gaze.

"Who else was involved in this?!" George shouted, seizing Brereton by the collar of his shirt. "ANSWER ME!"

In all his time as one of the king's grooms, Brereton had seen many an outburst from King Henry, and he never believed he would ever see another man whose temper could even hope to match the king's. Now, he was certain the monarch had met his match.

"You were seen in the company of the Imperial Ambassador Chapuys not long ago," George's face had twisted into a cross between a grimace and a smirk, a most unpleasant expression. "Do you deny it?"

When Brereton didn't respond, he felt the palm of George's hand connect with his face, causing his head to snap back.

"Do. You. Deny. It?" Lord Wiltshire demanded once more.

No response.

"Very well," George's tone became calm and he turned to face Cromwell. "It appears Master Brereton does not feel the need to speak. I believe a bit of _persuasion_ is in order."

Thomas Boleyn himself would have no doubt been pleased to see the cold smirk now gracing his son's features as he spoke these words, without a trace of his normal amiability.

...

Mary could no longer feel comfortable in the Imperial Ambassador's presence.

She knew he continued to slander her half-brothers and half-sister as bastards, barely even attempting to conceal his dislike of having to show the twins and Elizabeth any semblance of deference.

At one time, Mary herself had been so adamant in insisting that she was the true princess and they the bastards. But now, she found it did not matter to her as much as it once did.

A part of this had been due to nearly losing Harry to the poisoning, a revelation that she realized Chapuys had been suspiciously untroubled by.

Mary had also had to reconcile herself to a painful truth, one she had chosen to ignore for some time; her father was the king and made his own choices.

She had once insisted, and she was certain others had too, that everything that had transpired from the Great Matter to the Reformation had all been the fault of Anne. That the harlot had seduced a good man from his loving wife of over twenty years and manipulated him into showing favor to her children alone all the while leaving his poor eldest daughter to suffer.

But in the end, Henry had been free to make the choice himself...

A part of her would never truly accept that her status as princess had been usurped by Elizabeth, and that of heir to the throne by Harry. But, she realized if she must choose between her siblings and her titles, she would choose her siblings.

...

...

I do hope everyone enjoyed that new chapter and, as a special Christmas gift, I shall offer up another chapter along with this one.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Alright, everyone, as promised here is the extra chapter. Merry Christmas, and I do hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtime does.

...

 ** _July 30th, 1543_**

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry sighed. He knew that his twin meant well, but ever since he had recovered from the attempt on his life, Geoffrey constantly worried for him. Lizbeth did too, but not to the same extent. Geoffrey had even refused to eat, or let Harry eat, until their uncle William promised to personally ensure that the food wasn't in the position to ever be poisoned.

"I'm well, Geoffrey," Harry answered, a bit more despondently than he had intended. "But...while I was unconscious...I...I saw..."

Geoffrey looked curious.

"What was it?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"I saw...Mama..." Harry smiled slightly at the memory. "She looked like the portrait in our lockets...She was so beautiful. But she was sad."

Geoffrey said nothing, instead waiting for his brother to finish.

"She was petting my hair and telling me she loved me, all of us, so much."

"That sounds wonderful," Geoffrey replied, "But why do you seem so sad, Harry?"

"Seeing Mama made me realize just why Papa misses her so much," Harry answered. "I miss her too. I almost wanted to stay there with her."

Geoffrey's thoughtful expression turned troubled.

"Mama wouldn't want you to die, Harry," the young Duke of York stated earnestly. "Mama loved us, she would have wanted us to live. She wanted us to live."

Harry nodded. He had heard so many times from their father, and their grandfather before he had passed, that their mother had willingly endured what she must to ensure that her sons were able to survive the difficult birthing process. Perhaps that was why she had looked so sad when she had seen Harry; she wouldn't want her child to die so young. Certainly not when she had died to make sure they lived.

"You're right, Geoffrey," the elder prince said softly. "I want to see Mama again, but she'll be waiting for us in Heaven. When it's time for us, we'll see her again."

At this, his brother looked relieved as he nodded.

"I want to be a good king," Harry continued, his blue eyes regaining some of their lost luster as his expression became one of determination. "I want to be the kind of king that would make Mama happy."

"You will," Geoffrey said with a smile. "I know you will."

 _ **December 25th, 1543**_

"I love Christmas!" Margery declared, her eyes twinkling merrily.

Catherine Brandon couldn't help but smile as she regarded her young charge.

"Yes, Your Highness," she said. "Christmas is indeed a wonderful time of year."

"Mother says that she found out she was carrying me at Christmastide," Margery said as her governess smoothed out the creases in her new holiday finery; pale gold damask and a matching hood, trimmed with pearls.

After carefully combing the princess's blonde curls, Catherine carefully adjusted the hood atop Margery's head.

"I hope Elizabeth and Mary like the gifts I made for them," Margery said as she peered at herself in the mirror.

Catherine's smile flickered slightly at the mention of Elizabeth's name, but Margery showed no signs of noticing. Or if she did, she chose not to call attention to it.

"I'm sure they'll love them," the Duchess of Suffolk said after a few minutes.

"I hope so," Margery sighed. "But I'm not nearly as good as stitch-work as Mother is."

…

"You look lovely, sister," Elizabeth said with a smile as Mary smoothed out the skirt of her gown.

Though Mary had been fond of wearing deep reds in past Christmas revels, but this year she had chosen a gown of emerald velvet with white trimming and a white satin petticoat. A wreath of holly held back her soft auburn hair and a necklace of emeralds and a diamond in the center hung about her neck.

"As do you, sister," Mary replied warmly.

This year, Elizabeth had opted to wear a velvet gown as well, but hers was a deep burgundy with a petticoat of pale green silk. Her red-gold hair was also adorned with a holly wreath, and her neck with a gold and ruby necklace.

"I am quite sure Duke Phillip will take notice," Elizabeth commented wryly, fighting back a giggle as her sister's face flushed slightly.

The Bavarian duke had returned to court shortly before the beginning of the Yuletide festivities. He had stated that his cousin, Duke Wilhelm, had sent his regards to his new ally, King Henry, but Elizabeth knew that Phillip had also come to once again pay court to her elder half-sister.

Though Elizabeth was possessed of a deeper sense of practicality than her younger half-sister Margery, a part of her couldn't help but note the longing glances between Mary and Phillip whenever they interacted with one another.

As she grew older, Elizabeth had learned a bit more of the situation between her own mother, her father, and Mary's father, she found herself better able to empathize with Mary. She also knew she, Harry, and Geoffrey were all lucky that the twins had survived the near miscarriage. Had Harry and Geoffrey been stillborns, or girls, Henry would have more than likely found a way to invalidate his marriage to Anne, branding their children bastards, and barring them from the succession while he married Jane and fathered children by her.

Elizabeth loved and respected her father, but at times she secretly resented his treatment of her mother, particularly when she heard an especially alarming story of her mother finding Jane perched upon the king's knee while she carried Harry and, unbeknownst to anyone at the time, Geoffrey.

Though she had not understood the while story as a little girl, Elizabeth found that she resented her stepmother. After all, surely the woman must have known that Anne wouldn't have taken kindly to finding her husband, the father of her children, dallying with another woman…

Then it occurred to her…

Was this the pain that Mary's mother Katherine had felt when Henry made it clear that he loved another?

Perhaps their marriage had never truly been valid, but Elizabeth could understand why Mary and Katherine had remained determined that they were the true queen and princess of England.

…

"Your Majesty."

"Duke Phillip," Henry greeted with a smile. "I trust your lodgings were to your liking?"

"Indeed they are," Phillip nodded. "Your Majesty is a truly gracious host. But I must confess I come to you this evening not as a diplomat, but as a suitor."

Henry's eyebrows arched upward slightly.

"Suitor? And who is the fortunate lady of whom you speak?" he asked.

Phillip took a deep breath.

"Your daughter…the Lady Mary," he answered slowly, regarding the king with a cautious glance.

"The Lady Mary?" Henry's smile faded.

Phillip nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty. From the time I first laid eyes on her, I confess I marveled at the lady's grace and purity."

"And her beauty?" Henry questioned, his eyes flickering dangerously as his fatherly instinct began to rear its head.

Phillip steeled himself as he spoke.

"Even before I set foot in your kingdom, sire, I had long heard tales of the lady's kindness and virtue, her inner beauty as well as her outer beauty. But in my time here, I found that the tales hardly did her justice. While she may be your base-born daughter, she is still a credit to Your Majesty in every way. I would consider myself the most fortunate man in Christendom to call such a maiden my wife. With Your Majesty's blessing of course."

Henry was stunned. He had tried many times over the past few years to find a suitable husband for his eldest daughter. She might be a bastard, but she was still a king's daughter and so she deserved a match that honored her royal blood. But it seemed that no other monarchs in Europe would consent to marry their sons off to a bastard, even a royal bastard. Even a generous dowry wouldn't be enough to make up for her illegitimate status.

And of course, there was the matter of if the girl would ever try to challenge her brother Harry's claim to the throne of England. The last thing Henry wanted was to marry her to a man who would support her so-called claim and raise an army to depose her brother.

But it occurred to the king that this presented a perfect opportunity to solve the entire dilemma; if Mary were to marry Phillip, then she would be given the title of Duchess, as well as whatever title Henry chose to bestow upon her and by extension, her husband. Not only that, but Phillip would be unlikely to try to support Mary if she were to ever attempt to usurp her brother as doing so would prove to be detrimental to not only the alliance between England and Germany, but no doubt Phillip's relationship with his cousin Duke Wilhelm, who certainly would not take kindly to such actions.

"Very well, Your Grace," Henry said with a smile. "You have my permission to ask my daughter for her hand. For it will be her, not I, to whom you shall be bound."

Phillip beamed at the king.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Happy Christmas, Your Grace."

"Happy Christmas, Your Majesty."

...

...

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed that, and remember reviews make lovely Christmas gifts.

Once again, wishing you all a Merry Christmas, and the next chapter shall be out on Monday, December 30th. Until then, everyone.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Wow, over 300 reviews! I can't believe it! Thank you guys so much for your interest and following of this story. Thank you to Lizairy Cullen, Guest, Guest, Guest, Purple Sky of Dreams, jamestudor, Vwchick, .el, xshynenstarx, SoarintheSky, Guest, Guest, Frog1, tricorvus, Guest, elizabethgolden, Guest, Justice, Robin4, and Nicole-Lavinia1993

for all of the lovely reviews on the previous two chapters and here's to hoping you enjoy this new chapter and to wishing you all a Happy New Year.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtime does.

...

 ** _January 2nd, 1544_**

"Your Majesty, Brereton has been in custody for months," Cromwell stated. It was not like the king to hold someone this long, particularly a traitor and a poisoner at that.

"I am well aware that the traitor Brereton is still languishing in the Tower, Master Cromwell," Henry retorted, his brows set together in a frown. "Considering that my son took some time to regain his strength due to the attempt on his life, I see no reason as to why I should grant his near-murderer a quick death."

"And what of Ambassador Chapuys?" George Boleyn demanded. "Brereton has long since confessed that the Spaniard is the one who gave him the poison with the intent of killing both boys."

"Ah yes, Chapuys will need to be dealt with as well," Henry nodded.

Cromwell, who still inwardly wished for an Anglo-Imperial alliance, knew that if the ambassador were harmed in any way, could provide Emperor Charles with just the opportunity he needed to declare war on England. And that would not only sour any chances of an alliance between the countries, but it could result in the loss of a great number of men and resources including every bit of profit that Cromwell himself had accumulated for the crown from the dissolvement of the monasteries.

"Your Majesty, I must advise you to tread carefully in this matter," the chancellor began slowly. "After all, Chapuys is not an English subject and it would be wise to inform Emperor Charles-"

"Perhaps Emperor Charles would have understood my position were his own son's life placed in jeopardy!" Henry roared. "I want Brereton and Chapuys dead! I will not suffer either man to draw one more breath of life! I WILL SEE THEIR HEADS ON SPIKES FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE AND KNOW THAT IS THE FATE OF A TRAITOR!"

"I shall write to the Emperor at once," Cromwell nodded reluctantly and took his leave.

"And Lord Wiltshire," Henry spoke as George turned to exit as well.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"See to it that William Stafford is made aware of Our gratitude to him," Henry's expression had softened. "A soldier must be brave and loyal, and I see that he has proven himself to be possessed of both qualities in great measure."

A slight smile crossed George's face as he inclined his head.

"I shall see to it personally, Your Majesty."

…

"My Lady Mary."

Mary stopped at once when she heard Phillip's voice behind her.

"I had hoped I would find you here," he stated with a smile as he looked about the gardens, normally abundant with colorful blooms of many variety. But the snow covering the landscape provided a different, but still much pleasing, type of beauty.

"Your Grace," she turned and curtsied gracefully, slightly inclining her head. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I would like to…that is to say if you…Oh my, I'm making rather a mess of this…" Phillip stammered.

The duke's face had flushed a slight pink. Mary had to stifle a giggle as she had never seen the duke so bashful.

"Yes?" she pressed, wondering if what he was trying to say was what she believed and dared to hope for.

"I would like to ask…if you…Lady Mary Tudor…would consent to be…my bride?"

Mary's heard skipped a beat as Phillip bent the knee, there in the snow, and took her hand in both of his.

"I…Phillip…truly?" she asked, unable to believe this was truly happening.

"Yes, Lady Mary," Phillip answered, his tone laced with the desperation of a man utterly besotted. "I have loved you from afar, but I cannot do so for another moment. I must know if you will be mine, as I would be yours."

That was all Mary needed to hear.

"Yes," she said breathlessly. "Yes, Phillip. I desire with all my heart to be yours."

Phillip rose and without any regard for propriety, he found his arms wrapped about Mary's frame and she found her lips pressed against his.

When at last, the pair separated, Phillip could see that a tear had escaped Mary's eye and was now slowly trickling down her cheek. But when he attempted to gently wipe it away, two more fell in its place.

"You're crying," he stated softly.

Mary's eyes swam with more tears as her lips parted.

"Only because I am so happy," she murmured as she took his hands.

…

"Mary is to be married!" Margery cheered as she entered Elizabeth's chamber. "Oh, Sister! Isn't it wonderful?"

Elizabeth set down her book, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Our sister, Mary?" she asked. "Truly?"

"Yes," Margery answered as she took her ease on the bed beside her older sister. "Phillip asked for her hand in the garden not one hour ago. And best of all, Phillip told Mary that Father gave him permission during Christmastide to do so."

"Then why did he wait so long to ask her?" Elizabeth smiled teasingly.

"Phillip always seemed to be so bashful around Mary," the younger princess answered. "Perhaps _His Grace_ was mustering his courage."

"Mary must be overjoyed," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. She had long known that her elder half-sister wanted desperately to be a wife and mother. She had always been so caring and loving to Elizabeth as well as the twins, Margery, and Edward from the time they were infants. The future Duchess of Angouleme had no doubt Mary would be a fine mother. And she knew the once-princess had suffered greatly following the loss of the title she had long believed to be hers. Now, she would be a Duchess, not quite the rank she had once enjoyed, but it had to be better than being forever regarded as the king's bastard daughter, even if she was acknowledged. And if their father was feeling generous, he might even grant her, and Phillip by proxy, a peerage as well. Surely he would be pleased to have finally found a match for her.

…

"So the Lady Mary is to be married to Duke Phillip?" Jane asked. "You're certain?"

"I heard it from the king's own lips," Edward stated with a smirk. "This solves your dilemma as well, Sister."

"My dilemma?" Jane asked, looking indignant.

"Yes," Edward sighed with ill-disguised annoyance. "Now you can wash your hands of the bastard and see to the interests of your own children."

"I have not concerned myself with Lady's Mary's interests in some time now," Jane answered, a bit more haughtily than she had intended.

This was in fact true, the queen had barely spared a moment's worry over her stepdaughter for the last few years. After all, what could one do with a bastard? At least Jane's son and daughter could claim legitimacy.

But Edward was right, this was perfect; with Mary married off, she would be away in Bavaria, unable to take the English throne, and Phillip wouldn't dare jeopardize the alliance between King Henry and his cousin. So Mary had no chance of ever usurping the crown.

But there was still a problem...both Harry and Geoffrey remained in the line of succession, both ahead of her Edward. Had Brereton and Ambassador Chapuys succeeded in their plan, both boys would be dead now. Or at the very least Harry would be, making young Edward one step closer to becoming king someday.

Something had to be done...but what?

...

...

And there you have it for this chapter. But fear not, lovely readers, for the next, extra long chapter shall be out on Wednesday, January 1st.

Until then, everyone.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Alright, everyone. And as it is the beginning of not only a new year, but a new decade as well, I have decided to start it off right. So, as promised, here is a brand new, super long chapter for your reading pleasure ladies and gentlemen. Thank you to Frog1, emilia. lozano .el, Jamestudor, Vwchick, Crockett Rocket, Guest, tricorvus, and Robin4 for all of the wonderful reviews on the previous chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtime does.

…

 _ **January 5**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1544**_

Mary sighed happily as she returned to her chambers for the evening. She couldn't believe her good fortune! Her father had finally consented to allow her to marry. And even more wonderful, the man would be one who truly loved her.

She had not expected to marry this Protestant duke, but nevertheless she had indeed lost her heart to him.

Her one-time friend and confidant Eustace Chapuys had once told her such a man was not a good match for her, even constantly mentioning her dear departed mother, stating that she would weep if her daughter married a heretic.

While he did not worship as she did, Mary could see that Phillip loved God as she did, and his faith was beyond questioning. His faith, his kindness, and his love for life itself were all just some of the many reasons Mary found herself able to say that she deeply and truly loved him and that she could not wait until the pair pledged themselves to one another in the sight of God and man, which thankfully would be before the month was out. At least that's what her father had said. Then when spring came, Mary would sail to Bavaria to Phillip's estate.

Despite her happiness at being married at long last, a part of Mary felt a bit sad that she would no longer reside at court with her little half-siblings, all of whom she had become so close to in the last few years.

Once she left England, she would be able to write to them of course, and perhaps she might be able to return to England at some point, but a part of her still felt a bit sad at the idea of being so far from them.

But it wasn't long before her joy once more overpowered her sadness. She was _finally_ getting married! And she wasn't just being pawned off for political gain, yes her father would enjoy a benefit from being allied with the German and Bavarian Providences, but Mary could still take the greatest comfort in knowing she would be bound to a man who cared for her and saw her as more than just a prize to be had.

"Mary?"

The once-princess turned to see Margery standing before her.

"Margery, I thought you had gone to bed hours ago," Mary stated. "What is it?"

"If you marry Phillip and go to Bavaria, will we ever see you again?" Margery asked, her normally merry blue eyes looking troubled.

Mary sighed softly and wrapped her arms around her little sister's shoulders, which she noted were trembling slightly.

"Phillip and I will more than likely visit England from time to time," she answered, choosing her words carefully. "But sister, you must understand this is all part of the very existence of marriage. You and Elizabeth shall marry someday too, and when you do, you will go to the country of wherever your husband lives. When Elizabeth marries the Duke of Angouleme, she will then go to France to live with him."

"And if Harry marries the Infanta Juana, will he have to go to Spain?" Margery asked.

Mary shook her head.

"No, Margery. Should they marry, Harry will stay right here. He is to be king, he can't rule this land from another."

Margery nodded, now understanding.

"But just because we will be apart, it doesn't mean we can't still write to one another," Mary continued, stroking Margery's curls. "And even if I am far away, I shall still love you. All of you."

Margery wrapped her arms around Mary's waist. She was truly happy that her sister finally had been given her greatest wish, but the young princess would still miss her terribly.

"Now, you'd better be going back to your chambers before Lady Catherine comes looking for you," Mary suggested with a small wry smirk, earning a soft giggle from Margery as the latter nodded.

"Goodnight, Mary," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Margery."

...

King Henry was in a very merry mood indeed.

He had been preparing for a morning ride when he had happened upon the sight of Mary walking with her intended, Duke Phillip, in the gardens. Princess Anne of Cleves, along with a few of the ladies and gentlemen from Anne's entourage, accompanied them, ensuring that the couple were not alone together.

It made the king's heart feel light for once; his daughter was now to be married and it was a fine match, especially when one took into account her illegitimate status.

He had also been pleased to receive word from Dr. Linacre that Harry's strength had now returned. The strain of his ordeal had now finally left him and he was once more the energetic and happy boy he had been before the poisoning.

Yes, life was going wonderfully for Henry.

"Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from Emperor Charles," Cromwell reported as he entered the room, the parchment in his hand.

Henry's mood immediately darkened.

"Ah, I see he's finally sent word back concerning the dealing's of his foul ambassador," he growled. "Ambassador. A murderous traitor would be more suitable a term. Give it to me."

Cromwell reluctantly handed the letter to his liege, who broke the wax seal and began to read, his eyes skimming over the words.

After a few moments however, Henry's glare became a cold, but triumphant smirk.

"It appears Emperor Charles wholeheartedly supports my intentions in dealing with Chapuys," he said. "See for yourself."

The chancellor took the letter from the king's hand and when his eyes regarded the words, written in Emperor Charles's own hand, his heart sank.

"My Lord Wiltshire," Henry turned to George.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"What, pray tell, is the punishment for treason?" Henry noted the look of grim satisfaction slowly gracing George's features, a sentiment he shared completely. Chapuys had conspired to murder his son, the true heir to the English throne, the man deserved his fate.

"Death, sire," George answered.

"And Lord Suffolk," the king's focus now shifted on Charles Brandon, who visibly stiffened, "What method of execution is reserved specifically for poisoners?"

Brandon immediately felt sick.

"B-boiling to death, Your Majesty," he answered after a few moments. "But, Your Majesty, is this truly necessary?"

"I believe it is **entirely** necessary," Henry snarled. "The bastard attempted to kill a Prince of England! The heir to the throne!"

"Your Majesty, let us not forget that Brereton also confessed to the attempted assassination of Queen Anne at her coronation," George pointed out. "He also admitted that Chapuys had a hand in that effort as well."

Brandon's eyes widened in horror.

At Anne's coronation, she had been carrying her, and Henry's, daughter Elizabeth. While a part of him couldn't necessarily see her as a true princess, for he still believed that that right belonged to Princess Mary, and he could never really acknowledge Anne as queen, despite aiding in her ascension to the throne, something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. But even with all of those things in mind, he found he could never condone the murder of a child, particularly one who hadn't even been born yet. Elizabeth's existence had spelled the end of Mary ever being Princess of England again, but she was innocent of her father and mother's actions.

Even with all that Anne had done, and what Henry had done for her sake, it did not justify allowing harm to come to Elizabeth...or even her brothers.

And Charles knew better than anyone that Henry was a man driven by pride and personal satisfaction. If he wanted something, or someone, he would always find a way to obtain it, and he would not let anyone hinder him. After all, this was the same man who banished his sister and only immediate family who remained in England purely because she had bruised his pride.

Charles had blamed Anne for what had happened, but if the events of the last few years, particularly the Pilgrimage of Grace, had taught the Duke of Suffolk anything, it was that King Henry would do as he wished, regardless of what even those close to him thought. And as a result, both Charles's conscience and his marriage now suffered greatly.

...

"Ambassador Chapuys has been implicated as well in the attempted murder of the twins," Edward said as he took his ease in the sitting room just outside of his sister's chambers.

Jane looked worried.

"But what role did he have in that?" she asked quietly.

"From what I gathered, he is the one who supplied Brereton with the poison and convinced him that it would be of great benefit to the Lady Mary were he to succeed."

"Princess Mary would never agree to that!" Dorothy Seymour gasped.

Edward seized his sister by the shoulder and shook her roughly.

"How many times must I tell you silly girls to mind what you say!" he hissed. "Norfolk and Wiltshire have spies everywhere that would be more than happy to bring them word of your treasonous sentiments! We are surrounded by enemies, sisters."

"But I am still the queen," Jane spoke up, albeit with her tone a bit worried.

"You are queen in name only," Edward reminded her. "And there are a number of people who would be glad to see you set aside in favor of a one they consider to be a more suitable queen."

"I have given the king a son as well as a daughter," Jane said hotly. " _Legitimate_ children."

"But the majority of people in England, and elsewhere as well, believe Harry and Geoffrey to be legitimate, along with their sister Elizabeth," her brother growled. "And in spite of how many times I have told you to do so, you still insist on persisting in your childish displays of dislike toward them. No one said you had to truly love or even like them, but you could at least give the impression that you do. The king has already been made aware of your true feelings toward them. It's a miracle it hasn't already caused him to show more favor to them, favor that could have easily been Edward and Margery's!"

"You can't speak to me this way," Jane frowned, her voice trembling a bit more now, but her eyes filled with anger. "I am the Queen of England!"

"Then act like one!" Edward retorted. "True queens never reveal their true feelings, particularly to their enemies.

With one last look of disgust at his foolish sisters, the Duke of Somerset stormed from the room.

...

"I win again, Edward."

Geoffrey couldn't help but smirk as Edward frowned at the chessboard.

"That's the third time, Geoffrey," the younger prince pouted.

"Little brother, I'm not going to simply let you win," Geoffrey replied with a small chuckle. "You'll have to earn your victory."

"Papa's the same way when he loses games," Harry snickered from where he had sat watching his brothers play. "At least that's what Uncle George told me."

"Did he tell you about the match with King Francis at the Field of the Cloth of Gold?" Geoffrey asked.

Harry and Edward shook their heads.

Geoffrey grinned.

"Hal told me about it. It happened long before any of us were born," the Duke of York explained. "Papa and King Francis were negotiating a treaty between France and England, and the whole time they kept comparing English and French things, and finally Papa demanded a wrestling match. And then he threw a tantrum when he lost."

"How did Hal know that?" Harry asked.

"His father, Lord Suffolk, told him," Geoffrey answered.

"How lucky for England Harry doesn't have a temper," Edward said, giving his oldest brother a mischievous smirk. "One could only imagine how he'd react should he lose a game."

Henry glared playfully and laughed.

"Not I, Ed," he stated, his gaze shifting to his twin. "But were it Geoffrey, I'd pity any other European monarch that excited his temper."

Geoffrey reached for the cushion on his chair and tossed it at his brother. And before long, all three boys were pelting each other with cushions and pillows.

...

Eustace Chapuys knew he was marked for death.

No one had said a word, but he did not need to be told to know what had happened.

Brereton had once fervently stated that even if he were captured, he wouldn't breathe a word of who aided him in his quest. But Chapuys had quickly pointed out that should he be tortured, he would break and confess everything.

And now he had. And in doing so, he had placed not only his, but Chapuys's head on the block as well.

Emperor Charles, who was now seeking an alliance with Henry, even offering his daughter as a bride to one of the harlot's bastard sons as a means of further enticing King Hentry to agree to the offer. He was once again at odds with King Francis, and were the French and English monarchs to ally with one another and leave him isolated, even Spain, the dominant power of Europe, would be vulnerable, particularly when one also considered the Protestant League was also allied with England.

And so, despite Chapuys's many years of loyal service and efficiency, the emperor would not be coming to his aid.

Chapuys was on his own.

Four guards had been stationed outside the door of his quarters, with Chapuys forbidden to leave, and no one permitted to enter.

The door opened and Chapuys found his apprehension increased when he caught sight of the man who had entered. It was none other than George Boleyn, the Duke of Wiltshire, and brother of the whore Anne Boleyn.

"Ambassador Chapuys, I am here to escort you to the Tower where you will await execution, to be determined by the king's pleasure," he said, reading from the roll of parchment in his hand, the warrant for Chapuys's arrest.

Chapuys said nothing, but his face had become ashen as the full weight of the words rested upon it.

Brereton had failed in the attempt to end the boys who should have never come into being.

It had all been for nothing. And now, they were both going to die for it.

...

Mary was shocked when she heard the news. And then she was furious.

How could Eustace have ever believed this was what Mary, or her mother, had wanted?

Mary had been unhappy that she had been robbed of her proper place in the succession and indignant on her mother's behalf, but she couldn't believe Eustace would seek to destroy children. And she knew that had Katherine lived, she would have never wished death on even her rival's children. For all of Anne's faults, it was not Elizabeth or even the twins' fault that their mother had made the choices that she had.

The future Duchess of Bavaria was slowly coming to terms with the fact that her father had made his decisions himself. If he had wanted to declare Mary a bastard, he would, and he did. If Anne had not given him the children he wanted, he could have easily dissolved their relationship and sought out another woman who could give him the sons he so desperately desired, if not Jane then some other woman. In fact, it might have just as easily been that had he decided to, Mary's mother would have been set aside anyway. He had made it plain that his main reason for his wanting an annulment to begin with was because Katherine had only ever given him a daughter, and his mistress Bessie Blount had given him a son. Her father was a superstitious man and so to his way of thinking, the arrival of Henry Fitzroy had been a sign that he should take a new wife, a new wife that could have just as easily been another woman rather than Anne.

And, though she wished she could say otherwise, Anne had once attempted to reach out to Mary, in her own way. But Mary had been determined to show the woman who had supplanted her mother just where she stood in the king's daughter's esteem. And not only that, but had Mary accepted the offer, she would have felt as though she were betraying her beloved mother, and Queen Katherine had already suffered enough.

Nevertheless, Anne had tried for her. But, and she noted this, Jane had made no such attempts for Elizabeth or Harry and Geoffrey.

Mary sighed. It was all so much to handle at one time...Chapuys and Jane...two people whom she had loved and trusted so much...both had turned out to be wolves in sheep's clothing. For all of their smiles and sweet words, both had turned out to be so vile.

And from this day forward, she found she wanted no connection to either of them.

...

He had failed.

Brereton stared out the window of his cell. He knew he was going to die. And worst of all, he had failed in his mission to help save England. The twin whelps still lived, as did their sister.

He had vowed that he had been up for the task, but now here he was, condemned to die a traitor's death. And worst of all, he had done exactly as Ambassador Chapuys had predicted; he had confessed under torture. He hadn't been brave enough. There was no way he would receive the mercy he would have if he had done as the pope wished.

With a defeated sigh, the man slumped against the wall of his cell. Even death would not bring him peace. Nor would his execution. He had been informed not one hour ago that tomorrow would be his last day on Earth, and it would end by means of a poisoner's death; boiling in hot oil or water.

All was lost, and he had only his own weakness to blame.

...

Eustace turned as the door opened and gasped.

"Princess Mary!" he exclaimed softly, rising to bow to the princess. "I cannot believe it."

"Lady Mary, thank you, sir," Mary replied stiffly.

Chapuys stared at her. Had he heard her correctly.

"You tried to have my brothers and sister killed," Mary frowned. "Why?"

"Your Highness, they usurped you of your rightful place as princess," Chapuys said frantically. "And the king had taken leave of his senses and broke away from the true faith! All because of that wretched whore!"

"He would have done so even if she had never been part of the matter," Mary stated placidly. "My mother would have been set aside no matter whom the king chose to take her place. If not Anne, it might have even been Jane or perhaps he would have sought a marriage elsewhere. Perhaps a bride that would strengthen an alliance, I'm told that Christina, the Duchess of Milan is quite lovely."

"The emperor would have never consented for his niece to supplant her own family!" Chapuys insisted.

"He would if it were convenient for him," Mary's gaze remained cold as ice. "Were it to present advantage to him, he would have gladly supported the match. "As you so eloquently told me once, I am not his subject. Nor was my mother. She ceased to be a subject of Spain the moment she married my father. And when she died, the emperor was fully prepared to wash his hands of me and seek an alliance with my father, regardless of his previous determination to support my mother and I. Clearly his family devotion has its limitations."

Chapuys said nothing, unable to believe that this was the same young woman who had once stood so strong against this injustice. And yet now, here she was, a part of this madness! How had everything gone so wrong?

"Goodbye, Ambassador Chapuys," Mary got to her feet, and turned to the door. "May God have mercy on your soul."

And with that, Lady Mary Tudor closed the door and walked away. Away from Chapuys, Brereton, the tower, aaway from the entire unhappy past in which she had languished for so long, and forward to the future that awaited her.

...

...

Alright, everyone, I do hope you all enjoyed that extremely long chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next chapter will be out on Monday, January 6th.

Until then, everyone.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Here we are with chapter 25, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much to Frog1, QueenAnneTudor, Guest, Crockeet Rocket, hateme101, Robin4, CrystalKaouri, Vwchick, QueenofTeeth, emilia. lozano. el, tricorvus, Guest, the dark euphie, and IWantColouredRain for all the reviews on the last chapter, as well as an additional thanks to the dark euphie for the additional review on chapter 23. I hope you all enjoy this brand new chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, or any of the characters, Showtime does.

...

 _ **January 10th, 1544**_

Anne of Cleves sighed and set down the piece she had been embroidering.

She was pleased that she had been lucky enough to accompany Phillip back to England, for not only was she fond of King Henry's family, but the country of England itself as well. She found that she could quite easily live there if given the chance.

But alas, that was not to be. She knew her brother Duke Wilhelm would never allow such a thing, particularly when she had already been pre-contracted to marry Duke Francis of Lorraine. Even though it had been over ten years with no official renewing of the betrothal pledge, she had been told by Wilhelm that she was still promised to the duke. And so, she couldn't even entertain the notion of living a life in England.

She soon found a more cheerful topic to occupy her thoughts however; she was to sup with Princess Elizabeth that evening.

Despite being fond of all six of King Henry's children, Anne found that Elizabeth was by far her favorite. The young princess possessed a keen intellect, as well as a maturity far beyond her years. In fact, Anne found that the charming, graceful, and academically-inclined princess was everything that she herself wished she had been at that age.

The king's other daughters, Princess Margery, and Lady Mary, possessed their own charm as well, each uniquely different from their sister and one another.

The Lady Mary, while quite serious and religious, could also be graceful and quite amiable, at least that was what Anne's cousin Phillip said. He had also said that the lady's piety added to her virtue, as did her generous and gracious heart. Unlike her sister however, Lady Mary was a bit more subtle in her intelligence, almost as though she were attempting to hide it to a point. Of course, having grown up around her male relations, most of whom believed women to be far from a match for men in terms of intelligence, Anne could understand the lady's reluctance to reveal her true intellect.

Princess Margery lacked the solemnity of her elder sisters, instead choosing to openly express her thoughts and feelings. And while a part of Anne admired the girl's sense of honesty in revealing her true feelings, she also knew this was a sign of the child's naivety, which unfortunately would have to be quelled purely through her own experiences.

...

"Your Highnesses," George smiled that boyish smile of his as he greeted his twin nephews and his niece.

"Uncle!" the boys both shouted excitedly as they rushed into his arms.

Elizabeth stood and curtsied gracefully before joining her brothers and wrapping her arms about her uncle's waist.

"I have a surprise for the three of you," George said. "Can you guess what it is?"

"Is it perhaps a new book for Lizbeth?" Geoffrey asked, casting a sidelong glance toward his sister.

"No," George turned and beckoned to someone in the outer hall.

All three children were pleasantly surprised to find the newcomer was none other than their aunt Jane Boleyn, and in her arms, lay a little bundle.

"Children, meet your new cousin, William Boleyn," George said, smiling at his wife and child.

Jane gently stooped down slightly, still carefully supporting her baby, so that the princes and princess could properly see him.

"He's so tiny," Geoffrey murmured, staring into the infant's dark eyes.

"You were that tiny once too, Geoffrey," Elizabeth reminded him.

"Was he just born?" Harry asked.

Jane shook her head.

"He was born on the seventeenth of October," she explained. "But your uncle and I wanted to wait until he was a bit bigger to bring him to meet you."

Elizabeth said nothing, but while her brothers began to protest and ask why they had not been told before, she understood. As hard as it was to accept, children did not always survive infancy, or even the birthing process in some cases. And given the twins', and even her admittedly, tendency to grow impatient, it had been better for the baby to have already arrived safely before they had known.

"You could have at least told us you were expecting a baby," Geoffrey said, frowning slightly.

"Remember what Lady Bryan said, Geoff," Harry nudged his brother. "Princes do not sulk."

"I wasn't sulking," Geoffrey replied.

"You were looking cross, which is very much the same thing," Elizabeth pointed out. "Now, let us meet our new baby cousin without your sour complaints."

As Elizabeth laid eyes upon the infant, she immediately noticed while he possessed George's dark eyes, he also greatly resembled his mother.

"Sir Francis is to be a father as well," Jane said, stroking the baby's curls. "He wanted to keep it a surprise, but I suppose given that we kept William a surprise, it seems only fitting that you be informed of this one."

"He and Ursula expect that the baby will arrive sometime in spring, God willing," George added.

"We'll pray for them," Harry said with a smile.

Geoffrey's sullen expression immediately became a smile as well as he nodded.

"Every day," he promised. "Several times a day."

Though it was almost force of habit for Elizabeth to offer to pray for a boy, she also knew that her cousin Francis would not be likely to pressure Ursula for a son as her own father had done to her mother. Of course, Francis wasn't a king and so the matter was an entirely different one.

...

"Have you told your mother yet?" Ursula asked her husband with a wry smile, already anticipating the man's answer.

Francis chuckled and shook his head.

"I have not, but I have a strong suspicion that George has already done so for me," he answered, before planting a kiss atop his wife's head.

"Have you spared any thought for what you wish the baby's name to be?" Ursula then asked as she lay down beside her husband, her head atop his chest.

"I confess I have not," he answered truthfully. "This particular circumstance has never been my area of expertise. Have you?"

The new Lady Bryan nodded.

"Should our child be a boy, Edmund," she said, to which Francis gave an approving nod. "And should it be a girl...Anne. For the queen."

Immediately a wicked grin spread across Francis's face.

"Anne," he spoke the name softly. "For the queen. I like it."

"It will honor your departed cousin," Ursula pressed a kiss to her husband's lips. "And it will no doubt unsettle the Seymours. In fact, were it not for that imbecile Thomas Seymour, I would have suggested the name Thomas for your father."

"My father," Francis snorted derisively. "A man I barely even knew, much less felt any sense of affection or kinship for."

"Well I have every confidence that our son, or daughter, will hold you in much higher regard," Ursula replied. "After all, someone has to."

"My dear wife, you wound me," Francis said, feigning sadness, only for the charade to immediately give way to laughter.

...

At first, she didn't dare believe it to be true. But now there was no doubt.

"I am with child again," Jane whispered softly as she sat with Dorothy and Elizabeth.

"Truly, Sister?" Elizabeth asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Jane nodded.

"I will sup with His Majesty this evening, and I am quite certain he will be pleased," she said, with a slight air of pride.

"Should this be another son," Elizabeth's voice lowered to a whisper, "Perhaps the king will be inclined to look more upon Edward and Margery as well. They are after all, his only _legitimate_ heirs."

"But what of Princess Mary?" Dorothy looked puzzled. "She is legitimate as well."

"Lady Mary is nothing but a bastard," Elizabeth scoffed. "And betrothed to a heretic as well. Really, Janey, it's better to wash your hands of the girl. Like Edward said, think of your own children."

"I have thought of my own children for some time now, Bess," Jane said softly. "Lady Mary was indeed a good and loving stepdaughter...but she is not a princess as Margery is. And of course there is no question Edward would make a fine king someday were it not for his being so much younger than the twins."

"There's a simple solution to that little dilemma," Elizabeth stated with a slight smile.

The cold way in which her sister said this actually unnerved Jane. Was her sister truly prepared to take the matter to that point?

...

...

And there is your first cliffhanger of the new year, and I promise the next chapter will be out, without fail, on Tuesday, January 14th. Until then, everyone.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Apologies for the delayed update, but now that my community has officially entered lockdown, looks like I'll be stuck at home with nothing to do but write. Yay! Thank you to Vwchick, Crockett Rocket, CrystalKaouri, Guest, Frog1, QueenAnneTudor, tricorvus, Robin4, emilia. lozano. el, Exh, Dictator Mags, IWantColouredRain, Guest, LadyHallows, DiamondGirl 11304, Sakura, Letcia, and Cattyfan for all of the fantastic reviews on the previous chapter. Enjoy this update, everyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors, or any of the characters, Showtime does.

...

 ** _January 12th, 1544_**

"Your Majesty, I am with child once again," Jane stated softly, her eyes shimmering with delight.

Henry set down his cutlery and looked taken aback.

"Truly?" he asked, his brows furrowing together.

Jane nodded, admittedly a bit displeased, for she was certain that the possibility of another child, another _son_ would have elicited a more joyful reaction from the king.

"Your Majesty, is something the matter?" she questioned a bit timidly.

Henry's expression flickered before he composed his face into a soft smile.

"Of course not," he answered softly. "This truly is wonderful news, sweetheart."

But his words did little to compound Jane's apprehension.

...

William Stafford ran a hand through his daughter's ebony curls as she wailed into his doublet.

It wasn't unheard of for a child to pass before reaching adulthood, but that still providing no consolation when your own child lost their fight for life.

"Why did Edward have to die?" Annie looked up at her father, eyes still swimming with tears.

"I'm afraid it happens sometimes," William answered sadly.

Annie closed her eyes tightly as she buried her face in her father's chest once more.

Elizabeth stood off to the side, her gaze upon the floor.

While she was sad at the loss of her younger cousin, she knew he had been much closer to her brothers, who were bound to feel his absence.

She wished she could say something to comfort Annie, but instead decided to excuse herself from the room and let Annie and her father grieve in private.

...

 ** _April 14th, 1544_**

At last the time had come for Mary to leave England.

Now that she and Phillip were man and wife, she would depart first thing tomorrow with him to her new home in Bavaria.

While her belongings were packed away in trunks, Mary had said her goodbyes to her siblings. Little Edward, Margery, and even Harry had all cried during their last moments with her, but Geoffrey and Elizabeth had been more composed.

However, what had truly stood out to the one-time princess was what Geoffrey had told her.

"I know we were not easy to love in the beginning," he had said with far more gravity than should have come from a child of eight years, even if the child was a prince of England. "Harry and I especially. Nevertheless, you have been so kind and loving to us, Sister. In my opinion, you have been like a mother to us. Us, Elizabeth, Edward, and Margery. Even if Papa no longer calls you a princess, you haven't let it color your feelings of us, and I'm grateful for that. And I know Harry and Elizabeth are too."

After that, the younger twin had kissed his stunned sister's cheek and wrapped his arms about her waist.

As the full weight of his words sank in, Mary had knelt down and wrapped her own arms around his shoulders, pulling her brother close to her.

"My sweet little brother," she had murmured, kissing his head. "You will never know just how much it means to me to hear you say this."

It was true. Mary had nearly allowed her longing for the past that would never return, resentment for a title she would never have again, hatred for woman long since dead, and the words of Chapuys to blind her to what she now had and could very easily have lost.

She was now the wife of Duke Phillip, the adored elder sister of the young princes and princesses of England, and soon God willing she would be a mother. But it would never have come about had she remained bitter and resented things that would never change.

But to hear one of the boys whom she had tried to be kind to despite her misgivings now say that he loved her not only as a sister, but as a maternal presence in his life meant more than she could say.

A part of her couldn't help but feel a bittersweet amusement at the unwitting comparison to Anne, something that a decade before would have angered her to no end.

"I shall write to you as often as I can," Geoffrey had said, hugging her one last time. "I love you, Mary."

"And I love you, Geoffrey," she said, before sending the boy away.

...

Ursula screamed and her back arched as she tried with all her might to combat the pain coursing through her body.

"I see the head, my lady!" the midwife cried as Ursula pushed once more, sending another wave of agony over her. "Keep pushing Lady Bryan, keep pushing!"

Ursula gave one last vigorous push before collapsing against the cushions behind her as an infant's wails filled the air.

"You have a fine new daughter, Lady Bryan," the midwife reported as the babe was taken to be cleaned and swaddled.

A daughter...

"Anne..." Ursula muttered before closing her eyes.

...

...

There you go, everyone and the next chapter will be out on Monday, May 4th.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Alright, here is the brand new chapter. Thank you to Crockett Rocket, Robin4, Dictator Mags, Vwchick, Guest2, Guest, IWantColouredRain, Mari Wollsch, Guest, and Cyberbook for all the fantastic reviews, and I know how much you guys have been waiting for this new chapter, and I don't think you'll be disappointed. So without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors or any of the characters, Showtime does.

…

Geoffrey smiled as he read over the first of what he intended to be many letters to his sister, Lady Mary.

She wouldn't reach her new home in Bavaria for some time, but he still wanted to at least start the letter so he could have it sent off to her as soon as possible, just so she would know she had been in his thoughts.

Harry had written him within the last week, stating he intended to write Mary as well, so that she would know that they still loved her and thought of her.

As he continued writing, Geoffrey couldn't help but think of the irony of it all; the woman whom their mother had had such a turbulent relationship with was one of the most important women in their lives.

A part of the Duke of York couldn't help but wonder if Mama had lived, would she and Mary have settled their differences?

But another part of him knew that was very unlikely; Uncle George and Aunt Mary had both said Mama had been very proud and stubborn, a match for Papa in those qualities. And he knew Mary was stubborn as well, a trait she no doubt inherited from Papa. Neither woman would be willing to yield to the other. So, it was possible that they would have still loathed each other.

Geoffrey loved his departed Mama, but he knew she was far from saintly. Even still, she had been his mother and he wished she had lived.

He knew if she had lived, Papa never would have married Jane, and Edward and Margery would have never been born.

He did love his younger brother and sister, and many would say if his wish came to pass, it would mean denying them life, he still missed his mother.

But his uncle William Stafford had once told him it was foolish to wish for things that could never be, and he should be thankful for what he had in life rather than dwell on what he did not have.

…

"Anne Bryan," Ursula sighed as she stared down at her new daughter. The little one already had a small fringe of dark hair covering her tiny skull. Her eyes, which were closed at the moment, were a pale blue much like Ursula's, but sometimes children's eyes tended to darken as they grew, so only time would tell if they would remain their current color or if they would become more like her father's .

Regardless, Ursula loved her new child and despite his attempts to conceal it, she knew Francis did as well.

"She is such a beauty," Ursula murmured stroking the infant's tiny cheek.

"Just like her mother," Francis chuckled, placing his hand under Ursula's chin, and pulling her into a kiss.

"That's how we got here in the first place," the younger Lady Bryan quipped with a wry smirk, which her husband mirrored.

…

"When you marry the Duke of Angouleme, will I get to go to France with you?"

Elizabeth looked up from the letter she was penning to her sister to see her cousin, Annie Stafford, looking intently at her.

"Annie," she spoke plainly. "If you are one of my ladies, of course you would go with me. Do you not want to go?"

"Oh yes," Annie nodded eagerly. "You cannot imagine how much I want to go. I just feel sad for Papa. Ever since Mama died, Papa's tried to be strong for Edward and I. And then Edward died…I just don't want Papa to be all alone."

"He won't be alone," Elizabeth took her cousin's hand and gave her a kind smile. "Remember, he's part of Harry's household now, so he still has him to look after. And the other boys too. I know it's not the same, but he'd still have family around him. And after what happened with that traitor Brereton, I cannot think of anyone more trustworthy to look after Harry."

Her words seemed to reassure Annie, for the younger girl's expression softened and she nodded again.

"You always know what to say, Elizabeth," Annie said, almost reverently.

…

As Jane's pregnancy continued, she couldn't help but worry.

If this new child was a girl, would Henry be as dismissive of her as he had been of Margery when she was born?

Little Margery absolutely adored her father, seemingly oblivious to his less than focused attention on her. He didn't shower her with the same fatherly affection that he had with Elizabeth and Mary when they were little girls.

Edward was his son, just as much as Harry and Geoffrey, if not more so considering he wasn't a bastard, and yet Henry doted more upon the twins than he did Edward.

It was all so miserably unfair. Everyone might show outward deference to Edward and Margery as was their due as prince and princess, but they were not seen as the most important children of the king. No, they were both doomed to live in the shadows of their half-brothers and half-sister, the so-called Crown Prince, Duke of York, and future Duchess of Angouleme.

But Jane's older brother was far from sympathetic to the plight of his niece, nephew, and most especially his sister.

"You admire Katherine of Aragon so much, you would do well to emulate her in regard to your behavior," he stated.

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, her pale eyebrows knitting together.

"You make your feelings as clear as day," Edward snapped. "How many times have we had this conversation? You have learned nothing! You are a Queen of England, so do try to act like one! Even in all of her temper tantrums, Anne showed more sense than you have as of late. You act disappointed that the king has not had the bells rung in celebration for your new pregnancy, and you complain that he barely acknowledges Edward and Margery, but you never draw his attention to them. Instead, you make clear your childish disdain for his children by Anne, which is going to just make him all the more defensive of them and more determined to protect their interests. Their gain is your children's loss, why can't you see that?"

Jane glared at him.

"Take care how you speak to me," she said softly, only to gasp a moment later.

The blonde queen stared in shock at her brother, her cheek stinging as she pressed her hand against it.

"Take care how you conduct yourself," Edward retorted before turning and leaving.

…

...

Things will begin heating up next chapter. In the meantime, I hope you lot enjoyed this one, and the next one will be out on Monday, June 1st. Until then, everyone. Stay safe and sane (while maintaining a healthy dose of insanity).


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